


Waiting for the Thunder

by tortoises_in_love



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Suits (US TV)
Genre: BAMF Mike, F/M, Harvey has a heart, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:51:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortoises_in_love/pseuds/tortoises_in_love
Summary: Mike was fully aware that he had a greater than average amount of secrets. He was keeping his past as a failed drug dealer from the rest of the firm. His history as a LSAT cheater from Rachel specifically and everyone else more broadly. He was keeping quite a few things from Trevor and his Grammy and Jenny. He was keeping absolutely everyone in the dark, including Harvey and Donna, concerning his rather dubious past.In which Mike is a secret ninja, Harvey has secret feelings and Donna while not technically omniscient comes frighteningly close.





	1. Fraudulent Faces

**The Chilton Hotel, Five Minutes after Rick Sorkin’s Scheduled Interview with Harvey Specter; Attorney at Law**

“Rick Sorkin?” Mike was not Rick Sorkin. “Mr. Sorkin you are five minutes late, is there a reason I should let you in.” Mike is also very out of breath. 

“Look, I’m just trying to ditch the cops okay, I don’t really care if you let me in.” Mike is an honest person. Mostly. 

The red head, because of course she was a redhead, leaned back and winked at whoever was in the room. Probably some hot shot lawyer looking for an associate. It figured. Because Mike...well, Mike did not have good luck. Mike had terrible luck, and the universe loved to laugh at him. 

“Mr. Specter will be right with you.” Mike frowned, shoved an extremely inappropriate joke down into the recesses of his brain and tried to gain control of his breathing. 

As it has previously been established, Mike’s life is a cosmic joke that constantly plagues him. So of course as soon as he reaches out to shake the unfairly attractive man’s hand his mysterious suitcase of drugs bursts open to rain pot down on the very expensive and fancy looking carpet. Of course. Because this, this is Mike Ross’s life. Hilarious. (Also, the reasons behind the mysterious pot filled suitcase are not actually important beyond the fact that Trevor is a Dick with a capital D. Also you do not need to know who Trevor is beyond the fact that he is the President of Dick Town, three years running.)

“Whoa,” Mr. Specter has no idea the amount of universe guaranteed bullshit that he’d just stepped in. Mike almost feels sorry for him. Almost. 

“I, I can explain that.” Mike said, because in spite of everything he still likes to try his best to swim out of the shit pile. Mr. Specter raised his eyebrows at him. “I’m not Rick Sorkin.” 

“I figured.” 

“I also have a chronically shitty friend who I can’t say no to.”

“Are you really telling me that you’re holding a suitcase of pot for a friend?” Mike winced, why couldn’t he get a dumb unfairly attractive lawyer to bamboozle into letting him out of this hotel room? Why oh why was this his life? 

“Not exactly.” Mr. Specter peered at him. Mike had been peered at only on three very special occasions. Two of those had been by his Grammy who was an expert at peering. Mr. Specter came very close. 

“Pick up your pot and take a seat.” Mike blinked. He wasn’t being kicked out, handed over to the cops or politely escorted into a police cruiser. Interesting. 

“Okay-” he hurried to shove the weed into his suitcase and pulled out the chair across from Mr. Expensive Suit. Seriously, the thing probably cost more than Mike’s rent for a month. Two months, maybe more. Mike didn’t know much about suits. 

“Start from the beginning.” Mr. Specter leaned back in his chair to regard him with a smirk and way too much confidence for a man who’d just been blindsided with a briefcase full of drugs. 

“Well, like I said my friend makes really shitty decisions.” Mike started, because Grammy had raised him to be honest whenever possible. “We- well we had a sort of falling out last year and it’s been pretty shaky. But he’s basically family and you do stupid shit for family.” Was he cursing too much? Screw it, he’d had a stressful day he’d curse as much as he bloody well wanted to. Fuck. “I knew he was in some deep trouble but I wasn’t sure... anyway. He called me up this morning to tell me he was being held at gunpoint and he needed me to deliver this suitcase to the Chilton Hotel, Room 809.” Mike ran a hand through his hair, feeling irritated and unsettled. Fucking Trevor. “So I did, because I’m a fucking idiot apparently. I get to the room and there are two undercover cops trying to break in. I managed to get by them but only barely. I asked the bellhop what time it was and booked it, which leads me to here...and now.”

“Being mistaken for Rick Sorkin.” Mr. Specter shook his head, incredulous at the fuckup that was Mike Ross. Not that he knew Mike’s name. Yet. 

“Yeah.” Now what? Was this the part where Mr. Spector called the cops? Shit Mike didn’t have that much money, he’d never be able to afford bail. Who would take care of Grammy while he was in prison for Fuckupery? 

“How the hell did you know they were the police?” Mike shrugged. In for a penny he supposed, and dove into the Mysterious World of Mike’s Memory. Genius kid extraordinaire. Mr. Specter looked suitably impressed. 

“Damn, and how much money was Trevor offering you to commit a felony?” 

“Twenty grand.” Mike said and Harvey’s eyebrow ticked up. 

“Why’d you ask them what time it was?” 

“Throw him off, what sort of drug dealer asks a cop what time it is?” Mr. Specter snorted, seemingly in disbelief of Mike’s obvious genius. 

“We should hire you, hell I’d give you the twenty thousand as a signing bonus.” 

“Wh-seriously?” Mike narrowed his eyes, assessing his previous image of Harvey Specter, attorney at law. Suit Shark indeed. 

“Well, unfortunately we only hire from Harvard, and not only have you not attended Harvard Law School- you haven’t even attended any law school.” Mike was quiet for a moment, thinking. Risk assessment. Could be stupid. Could be reckless. Harvey (and when had he become Harvey?) frowned at him. Could be great. “Have you?” Mike grinned. 

“Mr. Specter I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Mike stood, extending a hand. “Mike Ross, Harvard Law class of 09. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Harvey stared at him, gap mouthed. The moment stretched out long enough that it became awkward, what with Mike’s hand just hanging there between them. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope,” he stuck his hand in his pocket.  


“You graduated Harvard?” 

“You know, the tone of incredulity is a tad uncalled for.” It wasn’t. 

“Why are you not working as a lawyer then?” Ah, the Tragic Backstory. How much is too much?

“Eh, I worked as an ADA for a minute.”

“And then you got fired.” Well first off..rude. 

“No, not exactly.”

“Then what, exactly? Why would you leave the DA’s office to become a bike messenger?” Ah, so many reasons. So, so many reasons. 

“It’s complicated.” Which actually meant that it was a Level Three friendship conversation, and Harvey was not yet at a Level One. Harvey raised an eyebrow at him, looking as though he was thinking about pulling the secrets out by force. 

“So you’re a genius lawyer bike messenger who moonlights as a drug dealer to get his delinquent friend out of a jam.” Well when you put it like that.

“Yup.” Here’s the part where Harvey actually kicks him out. 

“Unbelievable.” Harvey moved towards his desk. “You know Cameron Dennis?” Here is where Mike gets to raise his eyebrow. Because yes, of course he knows the DA. 

“Yeah.” Tentative, you know, like how you answer when you’re not sure what the mood of the room is. Do we like Cameron Dennis? Do we hate him? (Mike hates him, a considerable amount, but that’s also quite complicated and not important at the moment.)

Harvey opened his laptop, and Mike prepared to grab his weed and run. “What are you doing?” he asked, because when faced with jail time it’s best to be blunt. 

“I’m e-mailing the firm to tell them I’ve just hired our newest associate.” Mike sat down. 

“Oh.” This is the noise Mike makes when surprised. Take note, it doesn’t happen often.  


**Pearson & Hardman, Mike’s first day, stupid o'clock in the morning**

Mike was not impressed. Nope. Not even a little bit. With the fancy offices and the big windows, the shiny sign that read Pearson Hardman in big letters when he walked in. 

He was also sure that Pearson Hardman was equally unimpressed with him, what with his messenger bag and scuffed shoes, mud splattered pants and general air of Poverty(TM). 

“Mike Ross?” The gorgeous brunette asked, walking into the lobby. Because Pearson Hardman was the sort of place that had beauty standards, really Mike should be flattered he qualified. “I’m Rachel Zane I’ll be giving your orientation.” 

“Wow, you’re really pretty.” Mouth, meet foot (who's he kidding they're old friends). 

“Great, you’ve hit on me. Now we can get out of the way that I’m not interested.” Ouch, _burn_. 

“Ah no sorry I-I wasn’t-” (I’ll spare you the sorry awkward exchange. Rest assured, it is very awkward. Que fast forward montage of shiny and impressive office orientation, insert appropriate oohing and ahhing here.)

Mike thought he was very impressive. Screw that, he _was_ very impressive. Rachel was totally blown away by his awesome brain powers. 

“You know what nobody likes? A show off.” says the girl who’s spent the last hour showing off how smart and pretty and With It she is. (Psst, Mike, nobody say's With it anymore. Psch, dumbass.) 

“You used the word ogle!” she spun on her heel. No, literally spun, Mike had no idea that was something girls actually did. “Hey, when am I gonna get to see Harvey!” she did not turn around. Rude. 

Well, if she wasn’t going to help him find Harvey then he was just going to have to find him himself. Shouldn’t be too hard, the way Rachel talked about him you’d think the sun shone out of his ass. 

He supposed he could just ask someone, it would probably be better than wandering around like a lost puppy. He wasn’t going to do that though, that was boring. Instead he strode around like he owned the place, very purposeful and not pathetic at all. Now Mike had clearly not given the hot redhead enough credit before. I mean, yes, she was Level 10 hot, out of his league and so very, very intimidating. Like he was pretty sure if he got to close he'd cut himself on her eyebrows or lose his soul by proximity to her glare. He inched forward cautiously. 

“No,” he blinked, her nameplate read Donna and she was even more intimidating in this, her natural habitat. 

“Um,”

“Harvey’s not here.” 

“I can see that.” 

“Don’t you have puppy lawyer things to go do?” She asked, quirking a deadly and immaculately carved eyebrow at him, her fingers never pausing on her keyboard, moving at blinding speeds.

“No actually, I do not, as I have yet to speak to Harvey. So if I could just-” he gestured towards the empty (lavish and impressive) office. Donna sighed, and pointedly turned away to ignore him. He took this as unofficial permission and slipped inside. 

This, this was without a doubt the coolest office he’d ever seen. Not that he’d seen that many offices. Cameron’s office wasn’t this cool. Cameron’s office was boring as shit compared to this. Harvey’s office had a fucking wall of records. It beat the pants off of Cameron’s office. 

Mike walked over to the giant ass window to stand and look down at all the New-Yorkers below like a fucking giant. Fear me peasants! I am your overlord! (yes, Mike is a giant dork, in case this was not already self evident.) This was the best. No wonder Harvey was so arrogant, with a view like this how could you not be? 

“Mike,” Mike did not jump. Or startle. Or blink in an objectively shocked fashion. “I’m gonna have to let you go.” And we’re back to the universe sucking again. Mike was beginning to wonder if this was still his life. 

“What?” Because there had to be an explanation, life couldn’t actually be that cruel. 

“I just got reamed for lying to a client, and if they find out I lied about you being an upstanding citizen instead of a pothead they’ll take away my license.”

“You what?” said Donna over the intercom, sounding far too excited for this situation. 

Mike, Mike had a decision to make. He liked to be honest, for the most part, but it was always a matter of what level of honesty to deploy...never maximum. Maximum honesty was bad and usually ended with him in the nuthouse. Medium honesty? Honesty abridged? 

“Look, I have to put my own interests above yours, it’s nothing personal. You’re fired.” He sat down. Mike stared at him. 

Now Mike rarely stared at people, he’d found with his IQ he tended to notice too much, so he avoided heavy eye contact as much as possible. But now he stared at Harvey. Really looked. Harvey’s jaw was clenched, his leg crossed over his knee, his shoulders tense but trying not to be. His eyebrow twitched. Mike came to a conclusion. An interesting, surprising, altogether unexpected conclusion. And that...that changed some things. 

“So...you’re telling me you’re going to fire me because if they find out you lied about me you’ll lose your license. But if you fire me I can just tell them you lied and you’ll definitely lose your license.” he leaned back against the turntable, watching. Harvey stood up. 

“Are you saying that if I throw you under the bus you’ll drag me down with you?” Mike shrugged. 

“Hey, you said you’re putting your needs above mine. This is just me putting my needs up there with yours.” he grinned. 

“You’re re-hired.” Harvey said, and walked out. 

“Huh, I can’t believe that worked.” Mike mused. 

“Me either.” Donna said over the intercom. 

“Do you just listen in on all his conversations?” 

“Yes.”

“Cool.” 

 

**Mike’s shitty apartment, after a long weird day at work, where Trevor the President of Dicktown awaits to employ his Dickery once again**

“What are you doing here?” Mike did not need this right now. Mike needed the opposite of this. And a shower. 

“Watching sports center. Booya!” Fuck you Trevor. “Also, it’s really fucking weird that you live in an old boxing gym dude.” Seriously _fuck_ you Trevor. “You won’t return my phone calls.”

“Uh, yeah, because you set me up. Remember that?” Deep breaths. Deep calming breaths. In through the nose, think of Buddha. Or Gandhi. The path of non-violence or whatever. 

“Did you forget the gun to my head part?” Mike’s mouth twitched. Fucking Trevor. 

“Did you forget the part where being a fucking drug dealer gets you shot in the head?” Path of non-violence, path of non-violence. Fucking _Trevor_

“Oh, come on, how could I have known those guys had guns?”

“Uh, I don’t know Trevor, maybe because they’re fucking drug dealers!” _Path of non-violence, path of non-violence._

“Look, I’m sorry okay. Let me make it up to you.” Mike’s mouth twitched again. 

“You want to make it up to me? Give me my key back.” he held his hand out for it, chanting a mantra of peace and serenity in his head. Maybe it would work this time. Trevor handed over the key and Mike opened the door for him. 

“Michael,” Trevor said, giving him _that look_. Seriously _fuck_ that look, “you know I don’t wanna live in a world where we’re not tight.” he mimed boxing at him. For real he actually did that. Like a douche. 

“Then kill yourself.” Mike said. Because the alternative was Mike killing him, and that was frowned upon in this society. “Get out.” Trevor left looking like a kicked puppy, and Mike let out the biggest breath, trying to shake out all the nerves and tension and _fucking Trevor_.

Now Mike needed a workout and a shower, in that order. He supposed it was his own fault for indulging him. He should have listened to his Grammy years ago and kicked him to the curb. But he was _Trevor_ , they’d been together forever. Shared a childhood, puberty, a brief and fucked up college career. Mike didn’t have a lot of people, he couldn’t really afford to dump anybody, no matter how shitty and useless they were. 

With a weary sigh he dumped his work shit and headed for the salmon ladder. It was going to be a long night. 

 


	2. Failure to Communicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey faces some unpleasant new truths and Mike gets a new suit.

**The China National Trade Center, Beijing, 2005**

Corruption is like a disease. More deadly and faster spreading than any physical ailment. A cureless and devastating sickness that has ravaged our world for far longer than is logical. When a virus attacks the body logic dictates that you eradicate the virus. Destroy it in every avenue in which it can be found. 

However, death can only go so far towards peace. For it is not the individual, but the corporation that is to blame. But if you are very clever, and quite patient, you can see the strings of the corrupt being pulled, organized and dictated by a select few. The masters of corporation, the moguls and officials by whose word civilizations fall, and societies crumble. The goliath’s of corruption. 

Wan Nianzu was a man of money and influence. A man whose name quite literally moved mountains. With the flick of a finger he controlled the whole of western China. For it is not, as one might think, the leaders of a country that control things. But the rich; money is the only power that matters. At least, that’s what Nianzu thinks. 

Nianzu is wrong. 

“Thank you, Mr. President, it is our great honor to do business with you.” Sheng Gui, Nianzu’s Vice President, bowed to the screen, his accent thick and his face impassive. Nianzu had trained him well. 

“I assure you, the honor is all ours.” The white man in the expensive suit said on the screen before it flickered off. 

“Gàosù fǎlǜ wǒ xīwàng míngtiān qǐcǎo hétóng.” Nianzu said to Gui without looking, instead turning to consider the Beijing skyline. Gui bowed and left without a sound. A good vice president, Nianzu thought, never made a sound. 

It was a beautiful view, Beijing. Nianzu had always thought so, especially as the sun set beyond the high rise buildings. A city of history and honor, a grand seat of power for the world. Nianzu leaned back in his chair, well satisfied with himself. 

He never heard the door open, or the soft pad of footfalls across his floor. He never heard anything at all. Neither did anyone else. 

It was Gui who found him the next morning, blood congealed on his lavish carpet, face frozen in gentle surprise. Gui’s first thought was how this meant he no longer had to bow as he left the room. His second had a great deal to do with what to say to his wife and son that night. A horrible thing indeed, he thought. Perhaps a move was in order. They’d always said they’d leave Beijing one day. This...this might just be the opportunity they were waiting for.

**Jessica's office, half past eight in the morning, doom on the horizon**

"You hired who?" Jessica is a terrifying woman. 

"You said I could hire anyone I want, so I got the best." Harvey was suitably terrified, normally. 

"He wasn't on the list." Harvey leaned back in his chair, legs crossed casually as he folded his hands in his lap. 

"I don't remember that being a part of the agreement." quaking in fear, honestly, is how he should have been. Jessica's glare was known to reduce lesser men to their knees. Harvey had never before applied the phrase 'gird your loins' to himself, but in the presence of the one and only Jessica Pearson, there weren't many other ways to put it. He steeled himself. 

"Who is he?" Ah, here it was, the dramatic reveal. Harvey slapped the file down on her desk. He'd had Vanessa compile it last night, expertly editing out the less desirable information. 

"The best." Oddly enough, not a lie. From what Harvey could find Mike Ross was actually the best. Top of his class, child prodigy, graduated early and with accolades. He'd even called his old Harvard contacts and they'd all sung Mike's praise to the high heavens. Even old Watson himself had deemed him 'a diamond in the rough'. High words indeed from the cockroach himself. Jessica raised an immaculate eyebrow. 

"You fed him to Louis?" Harvey snorted. 

"Of course, kid's gotta earn his stripes." He only felt marginally bad, Louis would keep the puppy busy until he could figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do with an associate. 

"And then you gave him your pro bono." Harvey froze, mouth half open only to click it shut again. Of course she knew, he should have worn his tin foil hat to ensure she wouldn't read his thoughts. 

"Come now, Jessica, you know I'm too valuable to waste on pity." She made a face. 

"Harvey, when I tell you to do something, I mean it. The next time I give you a pro bono you'd damn well better be the one who does it, all of it, without Ross's help. Or so help me I will drag you before the board myself." Shit. Double shit. He might have actually shit his pants. It's okay though, play it cool Harvey. Just like Cameron taught you. 

"Fine, but if my billables suffer because of it, it's not my fault." Jessica smiled, a wide sharks grin of a smile. Harvey gulped. 

"Of course they won't Harvey, you're the best." she dropped the file on the desk. "Now go train your puppy," she sat down, "and for god's sake get him a better suit, he looks like an ambulance chaser." Harvey winced. He'd told the kid to go to Rene's before setting foot in the office, but come Monday morning in he'd walked in those atrocious skinny ties and a suit at least a sizes too big for him. He sighed, time to take the puppy for a walk. 

**Rene’s Suits, because Harvey is an asshole and Mike failed to escape the first time, bastard.** So Mike didn’t do so well in enclosed spaces. Especially enclosed spaces he wasn’t familiar with, and especially enclosed spaces where he was the apparent center of attention. Part of it grated against his instinct to remain unseen and inconspicuous, and part of it was feeling entirely out of place being stared at by fancy people. His first trip to Rene hadn’t gone to plan, let’s just say. Mike didn’t see a problem with this. But then Mike didn’t much care about what he was wearing. As long as it covered him he was good to go, but Pearson Hardman was a fancier place, the sort of place where what you looked like mattered. Clients would judge him based purely on how expensive his suit or how tasteful his tie clip. Mike disliked this, but accepted it as a reasonable sacrifice for working with Harvey. “What do you mean you just walked out?” Mike raised his eyebrows, you’d think he just told Harvey he’d abandoned his dog on the side of the road. “I felt uncomfortable.” this was entirely reasonable to him. “Felt un- Donna!” this was not reasonable to Harvey. “I’ve called Rene and he’s willing to give the kid another shot, you’re scheduled for two this afternoon, just after the Bergman meeting.” She handed him a folder, cast Mike an appraising glance up and down and turned back to Harvey. “I explained the situation a bit more...carefully, than last time. You’re afternoon schedule is cleared so you can take the puppy for a walk.” Mike squaked at the indignity of being called a puppy and Harvey leveled Donna with a glare. “I don’t have time to hold the kids hand, I have an actual grown up job to do here.” “Yes, well, if you’d prepared Rene a bit more last time perhaps you wouldn’t have to walk him through this now.” She smiled, unrepentant and walked out. Mike gawked after her and then swung back to Harvey, feeling distinctly uncomfortable again. Rene’s with Harvey was almost worse than Rene’s without Harvey. Now there were three fancy people staring at him in fixed judgement. Perfect. “Tsch, the tie-” “I know-” “And we must do something for that butt darling, this is just a crime.” Rene shook his head in dismay as he casually ogled Mike’s ass. “I was thinking light grey-” Harvey said, staring with fixed concentration at Mike’s chest. Mike resisted the urge to cover himself. “With the navy tie perhaps? Or perhaps sapphire for those eyes,” Rene tapped his lip in contemplation before turning and snapping at Marie who came forward with a tape measure like a weapon. Mike had to stop himself from fleeing at the sight of her. What ensued was a flurry of fabrics and suit-lingo that Mike didn’t even try to follow. Marie got way too up and personal with Mike’s junk, Rene and Harvey debated buttons and lapels and chalk vs. stripe. Mike just tried not to trip over himself while they circled him like vultures. That was until everything came to a grinding halt when Rene turned to face him and said- “alright, get out of this atrocity and I’ll see what I can do, Harvey you could do with a new winter wardrobe as well I’d imagine.” Mike’s stomach plummeted and he struggled to maintain his composure even as Harvey beamed at Rene and preened like the ridiculous peacock he was. “Is there a changing room or-” he tried his best to affect something like the careless attitude Harvey wore all day. He wasn’t sure he succeeded. “Over there, though there’s no need to be shy-” Mike huffed a laugh and fled in as dignified a way as he could. He emerged in his boxers and his undershirt a moment later, sweating and praying for the first time in actual years. Even so, he saw Harvey frown at the scars that peaked out from beneath his shirt, the long burn on his leg, the gash on his thigh. He ignored it as best he could and faced Rene who immediately put him into a pair of charcoal grey pants. The fitting was mostly painless, and with the added benefit of seeing Harvey bossed around by Rene while he got fitted for his ‘winter wardrobe’. Mike was just settling into a lighter grey suit and ignoring Rene tell him something about the buttons when Harvey walked out in a slightly shiny blue three piece with a silver tie. Mike whistled, mostly to make Harvey’s eyebrow twitch. Which it did. “Another pezzonovante…” Harvey’s lips twitched in an approximation of a smile. “Well- there wasn’t enough time, Michael. Wasn’t enough time,” Harvey countered as he strolled up to the mirror, buttoning his middle button and sticking his hands in his pockets, looking smug and rich and entirely too pleased with himself. “Cute,” Marie said, eyeballing them together. Mike looked away from Harvey towards the mirror where he had to admit, they did make a handsome pair. The suits went well together, just enough contrast, and they were of a height, though truly he thought he was taller, he was fairly sure Harvey wore lifts. “We look cute together.” he shot Harvey a shit eating grin, sticking his own hands in his pockets. “I look cute with everybody.” “Humble too,” “Humility is for the opposition.” “Harvey Specter School of Law?” “Damn straight.” They bought the suits, Rene said he’d have then finished and delivered within the week, lamenting at the amount of time Mike would have to make do with his ‘horrible suits’. 

**Fidelgo's Restaraunt, late that evening, in romantic candle light no less**

"Harvey, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Vanessa asked, flashing a beatific smile as Harvey sat down. He wasn't fooled, she was surprised to see him, and annoyed. He'd interrupted her indulgence. 

"What? Can't I just have missed your company?" He grinned, unbuttoning his jacket to fall elegantly at his sides. He looked good today, and hew knew it. The price of the suit was well worth the way her eyes tracked his movements hungrily. She'd never sleep with him, he knew, but the flirting was nice practice. 

"Harvey don't be coy, we both know your time is too valuable for simple trivialities." Like a period romance, talking with her was like dancing. It always had been. 

"You are as intelligent as you are beautiful, Vanessa, as always." he inclined his head towards her with a smirk. She snorted, loudly. 

"Cut the shit Specter, what is it?" What was it with him and surrounding himself with terrifying women? 

"Mike Ross." She ticked up an eyebrow. 

"I gave you his file already, carefully edited and everything." 

"You missed some things." Ooh, now both of her eyebrows went up, a dangerous light in her eye. 

"Did I?" He nodded. 

"You did. I need you to dig a little deeper, find out what really happened at the DA's office, why he left. Everything, even if it's insignificant, i want to know all of his dirty laundry. I can't afford to have any of his secrets come to bite me in the ass." Vanessa looked at him, eyes narrowed and head cocked. A dangerous look if ever there was one. 

"What are you expecting me to find?" she asked. He shrugged. 

"I'll know it when I see it." At least, he hoped he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew that took forever. Sorry guys, I tend to write out of order so I've got a lot written, it's just all jumbled and I had to sort out what happened first and in what order. Hope you guys like it! 
> 
> If you didn't notice in my version Mike does have his Law degree, though Harvey is keeping the exact nature of Mike's 'interview' from everyone but Donna, because she knows all. I figured adding the fake degree would just be too lies too many for poor Michael. He's already dealing with so much.


	3. Secrets and Wishful Thinking

**The Monastary of the Shams Alsabah, Tibet**

The sound of boots in snow is not dissimilar to the sound of crunching bone. At least, if the two of those sounds are heard often in relation to one another. The ring of metal against metal, the feel of hot breath on cold skin, the sting of split knuckles in the morning. 

"Faster!" hot breath squeezed out of his lungs like the dying embers of a fire. "Harder!" blood dripped, cold and sluggish down his forearm. "Kill him!" bone crunched under his bare heel. 

The silence after death was deafening. Whether it lasted forever or only for a moment it encompassed every atom in the air, as if the world itself were holding its breath in the wake of life.

"Amir Al'jabal." spine straight, eyes ahead, heart flat and blood still. 

He loves the way the light reflected off her hair. In the dim glow at the end of the day it resembled bronze, blending with the dizzying array of tiles around them. But in the morning, fanned out across silken sheets it shone like molten gold, and he could swear he'd wooed the Goddess of War herself into his bed. Her eyes were flint, full of dark promise. 

"You have done well." blood ran in patterns at their feet, but all he saw was her smile, all he felt was her warmth. "I have a mission for you." anything. He would capture the stars for her, were she only to ask. 

" _Ajl ya habia._ " Her smile held an edge that sent shivers down his spine. 

"Kill him." he blinked. Slow like molasses, as though fate moved to keep him still in spite of himself, he turned. 

"He is a boy." hardly able to stand, skinny and dark eyed. Like his mother. His mother. "No," his tongue felt clumsy in his mouth. "He's just a boy." he stumbled forward, to protect him or to kill him he couldn't be certain. But he was moving nonetheless. "Just a boy, a baby. My baby boy." he reached for him, dark eyes and dark curls and a bright open smile. 

"Papa!" 

"No!" Mike jerked awake with a wrenching cry, soaked in sweat and shaking. Cold air hit his bare chest and he touched his face to find tears. 

Grabbing his phone he checked the time, blinking sleep from his eyes he saw it was only half past four in the morning. Laying back with a groan he stared blankly at the ceiling, there was no chance he was sleeping now, might as well get a workout in before he had to be at the office. Louis was on a warpath lately and if Mike wanted to get through the day without committing homicide he'd need the stress relief. Rolling to his feet he fell into a push up and let his body go, pushing until he could no longer see her face, no longer hear the crunch of bone or feel the hot stick of blood on his hands. 

**Mike's cubicle, halfway through Louis' tirade of the day**

"Look, Mike, can I call you Mike?" Mike wondered if the sneer on his face was the product of an unfortunate childhood event. Maybe he was the asshole for judging Louis' obviously debilitating disability. Maybe he should start a GoFundMe for his face, get him some plastic surgery. "Here's how it works here, I say jump you say how high, capiche?" Mike blinked at him, slow and stupid, and fantasized about punching. 

"Got it." he said, Louis raised an eyebrow. 

"Got what Mike?" Mike resisted the strong urge to commit violence. 

"How high do you want me to jump Louis?" Louis smiled, smarmy and smug and victorious. 

"All the way to the fucking top, Mike." and with that he dumped a load of files on Mike's desk and sauntered away like the asshole he was. 

"Aw, poor puppy." Donna pouted at him from over his cubicle wall and Mike felt his shoulder muscles relax. 

"Hello Donna." He said with a smile. 

"Harvey needs you," she said, straightening. "Now!" she added when he didn't hop to. 

"Yes! Sure, right away ma'am!" he said with mock seriousness. Donna shot him a withering glare at the 'ma'am' remark which he dodged with skilled ease. 

Harvey, aesthetic as ever, lounged in his chair as he stared out his window thoughtfully, lips pursed and eyes hooded. Mike sometimes wondered if he practiced these looks in the mirror, they were too well sculpted to be completely natural. He tried to imagine Harvey pouting at himself in the mirror in the morning, trying to perfect the perfect intimidating smolder. The kind of smolder that could drop a woman's panties a block away. No wonder Donna was made of steel if she was exposed to The Smolder on a regular basis. Mike himself thought of himself as being made of quite stern stuff, but even he was rendered temporarily speechless at the light coming off of Harvey's perfectly sculpted coif. 

"What d'you know about Cameron Dennis?" Mike blinked, how to answer? He knew quite a bit about Cameron Dennis, more than he probably aught to, actually. 

"What do you want to know?" Harvey raised his eyebrows and Mike tried to look confident. 

" _I_ already know everything there is to know, you worked for him?" Mike nodded, sitting across from him. 

"For a little while." Vague, smart move Ross. 

"Two years, actually." Well, someone had done their homework. 

"It was time to move on." Harvey grunted. 

"You were an ADA yourself weren't you?" See Harvey, you're not the only one who can google. Or hack secure government servers in the middle of the night in a fit of insomnia. Y'know, the usual.

"I was," Surprise suited Harvey, Mike resolved to surprise him as often as possible, just to see that little twitch again. It was very attractive that twitch. 

"Is this the part where we both pretend to know less about Cameron than we actually do?" Mike leaned forward, ready to play at least part of his hand here. "Because I know quite a bit." There it was, that twitch. God Mike loved that twitch. 

"Do you now?" Harvey straightened his jacket, clearly rallying himself. "Tell me, Mr. Ross, what do you _think_ you know?" 

Mike smirked, feeling mischievous and reckless enough to jeopardize the fragile friendship he'd cultivated with Harvey so far. "Unless you already know, I don't think I should. Let's just say I'm waiting for the opportune moment to let certain things come to light. Cameron owes me." Cameron owed him quite a bit. Harvey studied him for a long moment before standing and walking to his record shelf and selecting something with saxophone. 

"And Harvard?" Mike half turned in his chair, not rising but just keeping Harvey in his line of sight without turning his back on the door. 

"Old, kind of musty, a lot of old white guys work there." Harvey almost snorted, almost, his lips quirked anyway. Mike was getting good at this.

"And you really graduated a full year early with honors?" Not a question, a statement of fact. Letting Mike know that Harvey knew. Harvey had had him investigated. Of course, it could have been a cursory background check. Mandatory, nothing out of the ordinary; an exemplary student with experience in trial. A diamond in the rough. But if that were all then Harvey would have no reason to bring it up at all, and something about him was shifty. His eyes kept sliding away from Mike's, as though he was afraid of giving away the game too soon. 

"Yeah, Moorsley nearly through a fit at breaking tradition." That much was true, Robert Moorsley was a notorious fuddy dud. But the fun of this little game of Who Knows What had left and left Mike jittery. His eyes darted to the door and back, mentally he counted his exits, security would expect him to go down, but if he went to the roof he was pretty sure he could scale the building. Harvey was nodding to himself, fiddling with the record player. 

"You had me looked into, didn't you?" Harvey didn't respond but the skin around his eyes tightened, Mike sighed. "This is about the scars, isn't it?" still nothing. Mike stood, "you could have just asked you know?" Harvey pursed his lips, pressing play on the record player and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

"Not if I wanted the whole story," Mike did not snort, however he wanted to very badly. There was no way in hell Harvey had the whole story. "the best way the guarantee you have all the information is to get it yourself." Mike tried to crack a half-smile and only almost succeeded. 

"And do you?" Mike matched his stance, at ease with his hands in his pockets, head cocked to the side. Cocky, self-confident and not at all ready to bolt, perfectly disguising the fact that every atom of his body was alive and ready. 

"You were kicked out of university four months before graduation, tanking a full-ride scholarship to Harvard in the process after you were caught selling tests to the Deans daughter." Mike didn't wince, of all of his fuckups that was the least of his worries. Instead he shrugged. 

"We all make stupid mistakes sometimes." Harvey gave him a look which clearly called him a dumbass. 

"That isn't a stupid mistake, that is a colossally idiotic mistake that before today I would say no one had a chance of bouncing back from." Well, when you put it like that, Mike supposed he had a point. He didn't say as much though, just stared at Harvey and waited for him to continue. 

"After you were booted from campus you reportedly went on an impromptu ski trip to the Himalayas, arrived in Aulii safely only to go missing a day later after going snowboarding in a snowstorm. Assumed dead after an avalanche rescue teams were called back after three days of searching came up empty handed. Five years later you turn up in South Africa, caught a ride with some missionaries and became the Prodigal Son that Harvard got to welcome in with open arms." Harvey's face was inscrutable, Mike had no way of knowing what he was thinking, how he was reacting to the very basic details of Mike's past. For his part Mike held very, very still, and waited. "This proved to be a miraculous decision on the boards part as you blew all of your classmates out of the water. You have the highest scores in Harvard history, graduated early, with honors and recommendations from Higgins, Wilson and Steele. Upon graduation you go right into the DA's office, nearly knocking my own Trial record out before quitting right at the peak of your career success to become a bike messenger who moonlights as a drug dealer." So things had been a bit....rough, recently. Mike supposed he could blame Trevor, and he did to an extent, but they were still his own decisions. And for the life of him he couldn't regret leaving the DA's office. 

"Harvard was really more interested in my status as a child prodigy than my status as a survivor. Besides the fact that they weren't allowed to disclose my personal information with any news outlets so it wasn't like they could get any good PR out of it." a rather hefty donation didn't hurt either, but Harvey didn't need to know about that. 

"The scars are from the mountain?" Harvey was facing him fully now, eyes bold and searching. For what Mike couldn't tell, but his window for retreat was closing rapidly. 

"Some." he said. Deciding on honesty for the most part. There was something about Harvey that made Mike instantly trust him, or at least dislike lying to him. He wanted to be trusted by him, to know him and be relied on to tell the truth wherever he could. Bad habits die hard, but honesty has to start somewhere. 

"But not all." Mike swallowed. 

"No, not all." Harvey studied him, eyes piercing through all of the well crafted shields Mike had spent so much time cultivating. The Stoner Dropout, the Brilliant Lawyer, the Child Prodigy. All of these were acceptable, expected, could be overlooked or understood. The rest, well, that could die in the past, it _had_ to die in the past. 

"Cameron called," Mike blinked at the subject change, but followed Harvey back to the desk. "he had quite a few things to say about you." of course he had. 

"Oh?" Mike said, making sure he sounded only mildly interested. Cameron could suck his dick. 

"Oh yeah, apparently you're a thief, a dirty lawyer and a fraud." Mike did snort this time. 

"I'm surprised he didn't add slutty and vain onto that list." he shook his head and felt quietly satisfied at the small quirk to Harvey's lips. 

"I may have left out some of his more creative insults." 

"Yes, well, I believe his last words to me were some variation of 'you'll never work as a lawyer again.'" complete with a great deal of stomping and cursing as well. Harvey raised an eyebrow.

"Sounds dramatic." He said dryly.

"You have no idea." Mike smirked.

"If I don't fire you Jessica will." Mike actually grinned at that. 

"He won't call Jessica." Harvey gave him a look and Mike grinned further. 

"It's a bluff, he knows the minute he makes that phone call I spill the beans on him and his...creative defense method. As well as a library full of other sketchy things he and his office are into." 

"You're blackmailing the DA?" Harvey looked dumbfounded. 

"Blackmail entails I get something out of it, at the moment all I want from him is his absence. Which, so far has been great. I suspect the only reason he called you is cause he thinks he can talk you into firing me without letting on it's because he tipped you off." Like Mike would fall for that. Harvey's not so inscrutable, and Cameron's not that good at being sneaky. 

"You said he owes you?" 

"Yeah, for a couple of things."

"Including not turning him into the police."

"Among other infractions, yes."

"You know that's a crime, right?"

"I could tell you the same thing." Harvey looked like he'd bitten into a lemon. 

"I have no proof." Now it was Mike's turn to give him a look. 

"Because you don't want to have proof. We both know if you wanted to put him away you could, Cameron's not that powerful."

"You underestimate him."

"And you overestimate him." They stared one another down for a long moment before being unceremoniously interrupted by Donna. 

"Harvey, Jessica's asking for the puppy." 

"Hey! I have a name you know!" Harvey snorted and he could hear her smile through the intercom. 

"Not yet you don't, hop to baby lawyer." Mike rolled his eyes and got to his feet, muttering all the while about trial success rates and Harvard scores. 

"Prodigy or not you're still the underdog around here Mike, for the time being anyway." If Mike didn't know better he might say Harvey sounded fond. He even smirked at him on his way out of the office, Donna winked at him as he passed her desk. 

Escape plan securely filed away in the back of his mind, Mike thought that perhaps for once things might just work out well for him. Maybe. Just this once, he'd be allowed to be happy.

He should have known that plan would go to shit.

**Auli, India, 2003**

Contrary to popular belief freezing to death in the mountains is incredibly boring. Sure, there’s the panic and the near crippling fear of impending doom, but that doesn’t actually last that long. Eventually it all tapers off into a numb silence. Long hours spent amusing oneself with thoughts of how hungry they are, broken up by bouts of shivering that wrack the bones. 

Time eventually loses all sense of meaning. Which is a sentence which is particularly meaningful when applied to an eidetic person known for counting seconds. After a while though, the brain stops functioning, moving into survival mode, pulling back on non-essential body parts. 

Eventually the only thing left to do if you want to keep your sanity is go over all the very bad, no good, god awful decisions that led you to this moment. For Mike Ross of course, this was all too easy. 

So for an indeterminate amount of time (approximately 6.256 hours) he huddled in an ice cave in the Himalayas replaying the previous 48 hours and questioning every decision he’d made in his life. 

It had all started when Anderson McKenney had asked him-no, that wasn’t right. It had all started when-but no that wasn’t right either. If he was being honest with himself, and really given the circumstances why not? It had all started in first grade when Trevor Evans told him that Spiderman wore a green suit. The ensuing argument was epic both literally and existentially, especially given they were only six at the time. (Once Mike had found out that Trevor was colorblind he’d felt like an ass for calling him a poopyhead mcspazzatron, but still, he digresses.) 

Mike wasn’t generally a pushover, at least not where everyone who wasn’t Trevor was concerned. But for some reason ever since they were six years old and Trevor made him feel like he was the stupid one for insisting that Spiderman’s signature suit wasn’t green and yellow, he’d had a hard time saying no. Trevor just had a talent for making Mike feel..inferior, less cool, or at least less informed than Trevor himself was. Which was ridiculous given Mike’s IQ and test record. And yet, here he was, sitting in an ice cave about to freeze to death. 

It probably wasn’t fair of him to pin it all on Trevor, but he was indulging in a rare moment of pettiness at the end of his tragically short life. Trevor had convinced him to paint the dog purple when they were ten, he’d convinced him to steal his Grammy’s car when they were sixteen, he’d convinced him to lie, cheat and steal on far too many occasions to count. He’d introduced him to pot, which wasn’t so bad he guessed. God he wished he had a bowl right now. Just, one last time before he bit the big one. Wow, he really was a self-pitying asshole. 

He’d known he shouldn’t have sold those tests. It was stupid and reckless and he completely deserved to be kicked out of school for it. It didn’t make it hurt less. Unbidden the crystal clear image of Trevor’s poorly concealed triumph at hearing the news popped into his head and he bit back a groan. He didn’t want to believe that Trevor was that devious, that he’d do something like that. That he’d set him up. 

But it was his decision, he could have said no. He should have said no. He huffed a laugh and bit back a groan as a violent shiver wracked his body. He couldn’t feel his leg anymore, he tried not to think about what that meant. He should have said no when Andy called him up a week after his expulsion and invited him up to his families home in Auli. Fuck but Mike had been so angry, angry with Trevor and himself. Angry and high and full of self-pity and self-loathing. And here was one last shot, one last trip before he kissed his dream goodbye. 

Mike felt tears freeze on his face and he shut his eyes tightly, clenching his fists in his lap as he tried vainly to conserve what little heat remained. The last day flashed behind his eyelids; Andy’s families private jet. Cooper Johnson and Tanner Gallagher starting that stupid drinking game. Georgia Hurley’s perfume as she kissed him, slipping her hand under his belt in front of the other guys. The laughter and jeering, the taunts. That stupid bet. Four hours after landing they’d been informed the mountain was closed due to a blizzard warning. Five hours and forty-five minutes later Mike was drunk off his ass, high and strapping himself onto a snowboard because Cooper had bet him eighty bucks that he couldn’t board down the mountain in a snow storm. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He was going to die from sheer stupidity. He hoped against hope that Jenny at least would take care of Grammy for him. She hadn’t been feeling well before he’d left. Had begged him not to go actually. He’d been too pissed off and bitter to pay attention though. He’d yelled at her when she told him she loved him. God he was an ass. A stupid, pushover jackass who yelled at old women and went out in the middle of a blizzard. He could- couldn’t believe. Couldn’t belive he’d beeee- been sooooooooo. So shtup- stupith, stupid. Gonnnnna die, nnnnever sai-said goodbye. Goodbye. 

The last thing he remembered before he lost consciousness was the feeling of snow hitting his face.


	4. Revelations and Surprise Guests

**Jessica Pearson's office, Pearson Hardman, aproximately five minutes after Mike left Harvey**

"Mike, have a seat." Jessica's smile was possibly more terrifying than her frown. Her smile was very dangerous, and it almost never meant good things. Mike sat. "I've heard good things about you Mr. Ross, Louis speaks highly of you." This shocked Mike, who was under the firm impression that Louis hated his guts marginally more than Kyle did, which was a lot. 

"Louis is, very good at his job." Jessica smiled wider. 

"Yes, he is. Which is why I put up with his theatrics. How did you like his display on your first day?" Mike eased back slightly in his chair, but made sure he was half turned to keep the door in his line of sight. 

"It was...very informative." She huffed a genteel sounding laugh and shuffled some important looking papers on her desk. 

"I bet, how's Harvey?" The question was innocuous enough but Mike was suddenly reminded of a mother asking after a wayward child and trying to sound less interested than she really was. 

"Harvey's the best, it's an honor to work for him." Surprisingly entirely genuine, of all the people Mike had worked for in his life Harvey was by far his favorite...for a varied mix of reasons, including his ass, and his hair, and his dimples. 

"Indeed," Jessica said, leaning across her desk and folding her hands. Inexplicably Mike felt threatened. "tell me, how was working for the DA?" Mike suddenly wondered where Harvey got his information, because if he got his the same way Jessica got her's...it was entirely possible this was the first and last conversation he was ever going to have with Jessica Pearson. Might as well make it count. 

"Intense." Mike said, striking for easy confidence and probably missing just a smidge, but he was doing his best. Jessica reminded him unhelpfully of....certain people. 

"Yes, I've heard Cameron can come on a bit strong." Which was a nice way of saying Cameron Dennis was a pitbull of a lawyer. 

"I learned a lot from him." Also very true, Mike felt it was unwise to lie outright to this woman, who like other terrifying women could probably smell a lie a million miles away. Better safe than sorry. Jessica smiled and pulled out a piece of paper from a folder on her desk. 

"Yes, it also say's here you donated a surprising amount of money to Harvard upon your readmittance," Ah, so she had also done her homework. Well, weren't they all just a bunch of homework doing do-gooders. Mike tried not to gulp guiltily. "I say surprising because you don't come from money, your grandmother is out of work and after your parents deaths the insurance company denied your, very valid, claim." Mike said nothing, the source of that particular money was...touchy. "Not that it's any of my business," bullshit, "but where does a newly rescued college washout find that kind of money to grease his way into an ivy-league school?" Mike took a moment to study her, the hard light of her eyes, the steady weight of her fingers on paper. Jessica Pearson was a woman to be feared, she was a woman to revere and respect. She hoped for the best in people but prepared for the worst. She had all of the moral righteousness of Harvey without any of naivety. In other words she was a very, very dangerous woman to lie to, especially when she was protecting someone she cared about. 

"Ms. Pearson, I was missing, presumed dead, for five years. During that time I cultivated certain interests which garnered me more wealth than I had expected, leaving me with more than enough to get by on after I came home." Jessica actually snorted, an unfairly attractive sound coming from her. 

"I'll say, more than enough." she let the paper drop. "You're very honest, Mike, but you're not stupid, both of which are traits I can admire in a lawyer. I think I'd like to get to know you more, at dinner. Tomorrow night, A La Garde just had a grand opening, we can go there." Mike recognized a dismissal when he heard one, he stood up. 

"I look forward too it, Ms. Pearson." leaving her office in a fog Mike walked to his cubicle in autopilot, planning, thinking. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of paper and snark, Louis's terrible cologne and Kyle's insufferable smarminess. Rachel was nice, in her own way, but Mike was too far gone to be reached by normal means of polite kindness. He got home late, head spinning, trying to fit all of the new information into his worldview. Harvey, Donna, Jessica. Three more people now knew more than was probably safe. It was okay, though. It was okay, it had to be okay. This was the cover story, there was no way any of them could get the rest of the story, there was no evidence, no one other than him who knew. Well, him and a few others, and it was unlikely they'd tell. 

He opened his apartment door and removed his tie, tossing his briefcase onto the couch. Suddenly cold metal pressed against his through, warm breath and flowery perfume filled his nose. Mike smiled, feeling himself relax for the first time all day. 

" _Taer Al-Sahfer, 'iilaa ma 'udin bialmutiea?_ " the knife dropped and he turned to envelop his friend in a hug. Sara laughed and squeezed him back. 

"Don't tell me you missed me," she said, pulling back with a smile, Mike grinned. 

"Never," neither of them commented on the unshed tears in both of their eyes. 

 

**Harvey's Bed, 3 in the morning**

“Harvey!” a trembling moan rumbled out of his chest. Hot, hard muscles pressed into him. 

“Mike. Mike!” He chanted, like a prayer. Blue eyes wide and dark and endless and a mouth- God his mouth, the things he could do with that mouth. 

“Please-I’m, I can’t..” Harvey wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer. Pressed his face into his shoulder, buried his head in sweat soaked skin. 

“Let go, let go. I’ve got you-” Mike let out a high keening sound that sent ripples of pleasure shooting up Harvey’s spine. 

They came down in a cooling pile of sweat and rapid heartbeats. Mike huffed a laugh, propping himself up to grin into Harvey’s face. Harvey smiled back, sex drunk and languid. 

“What would Donna say if she could see you now?” Harvey blinked, a frown pulling at his face. Donna….what?

“Harvey?” Mike cocked his head, looking confused. His voice sounded funny too, higher and a little bit irritated. “Harvey!” 

Harvey jerked awake. One arm flailed out as he grunted in surprise, trying to blink his vision back. Donna materialized next to him looking fond and exasperated. 

“Wha?” he said intelligently. Donna rolled her eyes. 

“Have a nice dream?” she asked, poking him in the ribs. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact I was until I was very rudely awoken by my secretary.” Donna quirked an eyebrow at him, eyes glittering dangerously. Harvey did not back down. After all, he was Harvey goddamn Specter. He didn’t back down from anyone. 

“Secretary now, is it?” except, possibly, his girlfriend. He deflated. 

“Did I say anything incriminating?” he asked. Donna didn’t answer, just snuggled down into his chest and wrapped an arm around him. He let himself sink down as well, but he was on guard. Tensed for anything. After all, if he had revealed certain things...it was best to be prepared. 

“Have I ever told you about my cousin?” he grunted, not sure if he was supposed to respond to that. “She has the most interesting stories, see, while she was in school she paid her loans by...some rather alternative means.” 

“Alternative?” 

“Escorting...sort of.” 

“How does one sort of be an escort?” He tried to look down at her but could only really see the top of her head. Not exactly revealing, although the peak of her breasts pressed against his abdomen was nice. He settled back, closing his eyes. If he was going to get yelled at he might as well be comfortable. 

“No hanky panky, more like high price relationship advice. With some kissing involved.” he hummed. “Anyway, her senior year she meets this man- client, who was having marital issues.”

“Color me shocked.” she wacked him lightly and he made a vaguely displeased noise. 

“Apparently, while he and his wife loved one another very much things had gotten a bit...stale.” doubt niggled in the back of his brain. But Harvey was never one to operate without all the information possible, so he said nothing and waited. Donna would get to her point eventually. 

“They talked, and got drunk, and talked some more. He kissed her, ran away and immediately spilled the beans to his wife.” Harvey made a surprised noise, assigning mental kudos to whoever this man was. “His wife, lovely woman that she was, decided she wanted to meet my delightful cousin who had made such an impression on her husband. At which point she fell head over heels in love, and committed an act of relative public indecency in the process.” Harvey was confused. Which is to say, he was waiting for the punchline, because she could not be saying what he thought she was saying. 

“Shocked at herself, the misses immediately confessed to her husband, and after a great deal of deliberating, an inordinate amount of drama and negotiation, the three of them now live in Keystone with my niece.” Harvey tried very hard to make no sudden movements, he’d learned via experience that startling a mad woman was ill advised. 

“Donna-” She sat up, met his eyes unflinchingly with that damnable Donna Smirk, capitalized and everything. 

“Remember that gun speech you gave Mike?” He swallowed thickly. “There are never just two options Harvey Specter, you know that better than anyone.” She kissed him. A peck, which turned into a deep and searing press of lips and tongue that felt very much like she was branding him from the inside out. 

And then she rolled over with a sigh and burrowed into her pillow. “Just something to think about.” Between one breath and the next she was asleep. Donna was like that, never one to half-ass anything. Not even sleep. Harvey laid back down, staring blanking up at the dark ceiling feeling frozen and strange. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

~ 

**Mike's apartment later that night**

Mike was halfway up the salmon ladder when he heard the very, very slight sound of boots on metal. Dropping to the ground he fell into a crouch and grabbed a metal bar sitting innocuously on a bench. Hiding behind his table he waited for the shift in air density that meant the intruder was within range. Eyes closed he waited, counting, five heartbeats, four heartbeats, three heartbeats. Now. Rising in a single fluid motion he threw the metal bar with deadly precision directly at Sara's head.

“You're getting slow.” Mike glared at the smirking Sara who held the bar in one hand and takeout in the other. 

“Chinese?”

“Of course.” she grinned, dropping the bar onto the ground. “Now come sit down and tell me how you've been.” Shaking himself Mike smirked, walking over to give her a back slapping hug. 

“You stole my line,” he ruffled her hair and dodged her punch, stealing a takeout box and flopping onto the couch

“Tit for tat bro, you give me the beans I'll give you the juice." she grinned, popping a potsticker into her mouth. Mike groaned around a mouthful of chow mein and rolled his eyes. "You've gotten worse with time." and more relaxed, he noted, less wound up and ready for anything. Distance from the League looked good on her. "I prefer to think I've gotten better," she waggeld her eyebrows and kicked him, "Now start talking, I heard you'd gone straight. Doing the whole real person thing, thought I’d see how that was going.” She threw her legs into his lap and he just barely moved his food in time to avoid disaster, he glared at her. 

“Ahuh, how’s the League?” he asked, mouth full of food, reaching into his minifridge and pulling out two beers. She saluted him with hers after he handed it to her and downed half in one go. He raised his eyebrows at her. “That good huh?” 

“I left.” she didn’t meet his eyes, voice low even as she tried and failed to keep it casual.

“You-” 

“I can’t-I can’t be that person, not anymore.” she gazed down at her beer, fiddling with a chopstick. 

“What will you do?” he asked. Because if she wasn’t going to talk about the obvious consequences of leaving the League, neither was he. 

“Go home.” at his look she gave a gentle shake of her head and a slight, self-deprecating laugh. “Not- I’m not going _home_ home, just;” she blew out a breath, setting down her beer to lean back on his couch and drop her head to stare at the ceiling. “I’ve been hearing some things about Starling. Shit that’s been going down. I need to make sure my family is okay.” 

Mike nodded. Obviously. He would do the same. Had done the same. He’d heard the same rumors about Starling and if even half of them were true he couldn’t blame Sara for worrying. Superman was one thing but literal Robin Hood was just getting ridiculous. Of course, this coming from a literal ninja assassin, so.

“So, the vigilante thing then?” that earned a smile. He grinned around his beer. 

“Something like that,” some of the tension left her shoulders, enough that she picked up her beer again. “So, the lawyer thing then?” she wiggled her eyebrows, aiming for a laugh and getting it. 

“Yeah, the lawyer thing.” 

“How’s that going?”

“Honestly? It’s everything I dreamed it would be.” and finally, the floodgates were opened. Of course he talked to Grammy, and Jenny before it got weird. But he could never fully be himself, not with them, certainly not with Harvey. With Sara, they were on the same page. No holds barred, all the secrets out there in the open, no judgement. Here was one of the very few people on earth who actually understood what he had been through, to whom he could speak without censure. It was freeing to say the least. 

“Ooh, Harvey sounds dreamy.” he snorted, well into his third beer and feeling warm and relaxed and _happy_. As strange and foreign as that was. 

“You have no idea, he’s got this mole and these _eyes_ , ugh! It’s disgusting, honestly. He looks like a labrador puppy, it’s ridiculous. And he’s so-” He struggled, gesturing with his beer as he glared into nothing, “he’s so good. Like, actually genuinely good.” Feeling disgruntled and off balance he took a long swig of his beer. Sara grinned at him, shoving at his shoulder affectionately. 

“Sounds like your in love.” she said, not unkindly. 

“What? No that’s- I’m not,” he flailed his hands, avoiding her smirking gaze. “Besides he’s my boss, I’m pretty sure that’s against the rules. Probably.” he finished his beer. 

“Ahuh.” he rolled his eyes, shoving her over and going to get another beer. 

“Also, I think he and Donna have a thing.” 

“The secretary? Talk about cliche.” he snorted, popping off the cap of the beer and leaning over the back of the couch. 

“Donna’s kind of terrifying actually, if they are together I wish him all the luck in the world. If he doesn’t end up marrying her I think she might kill him.” 

“Mm, your life sounds so dramatic. And normal. It’s nice.” and Mike grinned. Because it was nice. It was wonderful that his biggest worry when he got home was how much work Louis had given him that day. All he had to complain about was a stupid unrequited crush on his boss, it was the best feeling ever. 

“It still catches me by surprise sometimes,” he said. “How normal things are here. How people just, carry on. No fighting, no life or death. Office politics, coworker relationships, keeping Harvey happy. It’s everything I ever wanted my life to be.”

“But-” he sighed, swinging around to sit on the back of the couch. 

“But I can’t just, forget. Y’know?” he ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it out and thinking about Harvey calling him scruffy that day. Maybe he should get a haircut. “All that stuff that happened, it’s still here, inside me. I can’t, it doesn’t go away. That violence, that darkness. I’m trying to be this person,” he huffed a laugh, brief and bright and fleeting. “Harvey says I’m naive, I need to toughen up and stop caring about people.” he shook his head. 

“You’re not a bad person Mike.” Sara said softly. He nodded, not really listening. 

“Neither are you.” he met her eyes and held them for as long as either of them could stand. She looked away first. 

“We’re survivors, we survived.” She said, though he wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or to him. 

“Never trust a survivor unless you know what they did to survive.” Sara was quiet, and for a while they just sat in silence and drank their beers. 

“Well, this is thoroughly depressing.” she quirked a crooked smile and he snorted. 

“Wanna spar?” she grinned.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~ 

**The Streets of New York, foolishly late at night and in a bad part of town**

Harvey was not an impulsive person. He was a methodical person. Precise, planned, organized, exceedingly thorough and devastatingly prepared. This trip to Mike’s was planned, scheduled, necessary. Mike had the information he needed on their client, and it had better be complete or else there’d be hell to pay.

It had nothing to do with what Donna had said. It didn’t. It had nothing to do with his curiosity, or Mike’s blue eyes, or the curling pink scar that peaked out of his collar when he bent over, the graceful way he walked or the confidence with which he held himself. 

No, it had nothing to do with any of those things. Because that would mean he cared. He didn’t. He did not care about his associate. Mostly. Beyond helping him out of a jam and making sure he was taking care of himself. Mikes well-being reflected on Harvey after all, and Harvey was a selfish bastard if ever there was one. 

In any event it wasn’t as though anyone was asking. Ray didn’t even blink when Harvey gave him the address, just put on Pearl Jam and lobbed some easy trivia questions at him. 

It was after nine, Mike could be asleep but Harvey doubted it. Besides, even if Mike was asleep he’d just have to wake up. Harvey needed him. Mike was his associate, he needed to be prepared whenever Harvey called. 

He supposes he could have just called, but they were already here to it hardly mattered now. “Leave the car running, this shouldn’t take long.” Harvey said, stepping out of the car and looking disdainfully at the area. It wasn’t a great neighborhood, to say the least. Crime infested and run down were words that came to mind. 

It wasn’t even an apartment, not really. It looked like an abandoned gym. Mike was living here? Doubtful Harvey approached the door and knocked. Silence. He knocked louder. Something thumped inside, scuffling and a muffled curse. Someone giggled, someone decidedly female. Harvey felt his hackles raise. 

A beautiful blond in a sports bra opened the door, looking sweaty and amused. “Can I help you?” she asked, eyeing him up and down like a piece of candy. Harvey straightened. 

“I’m looking for Mike Ross.” he stated, strong, confident, bold. Not at all wondering if he’d gotten the wrong address. He hadn’t, Donna had given him this address. Donna was never wrong. 

“He’s in the shower, do you want to wait or-” she quirked an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. “You’re Harvey Specter aren’t you?” she sounded amused. 

“Just...tell Mike to text me the details of the Moore case. I need it tonight.” he straightened his jacket and made to turn around, feeling disgruntled. 

“Sure thing hot shot,” then she leaned back into the gym/apartment and shouted, “hey Mike, Harvey needs you to text him about the Moore thing.” Harvey frowned. He was being laughed at, and he didn’t like it. He was Harvey goddamn Specter, not some ambulance chaser. Then again he was apparently interrupting Mike’s...whatever. 

There was a series of thumps and crashes and a slightly damp and hastily dressed Mike appeared at the door, looking annoyed. “Sorry about that, Sara can be...um..” he made a vague gesture that Harvey supposed was supposed to encapsulate everything ‘Sara’ was. 

“It’s fine, I need your research on the Moore case. Tonight.” Mike nodded. 

“Yeah of course, I have it with me unless you want the digital copy.” Harvey hesitated, he didn't actually need the Moore research tonight. He could just as easily get things done tomorrow morning. But when else was he going to get to see the inside of Mike’s ‘apartment’. 

“I’ll take the physical copy.” he said, trying to insert his usual amount of kickass into his tone. He wasn’t sure if it worked or not. Mike just nodded and waved him inside. 

It was worse than he'd imagined. It wasn’t an apartment. It was a boxing gym, an old, run down, poorly taken care of boxing gym. Complete with the ring. 

“You live here?” he glared around him, hands in his pockets to keep from touching anything. 

“Um, yes?” Mike said, distracted as he sifted through the piles of papers that lay everywhere. It wasn’t unclean, per se, though it was incredibly disorganized. So much so it made Harvey’s hands twitch with the need to put things in there proper place. 

“Are you fond of boxing gyms or is there some other reason you couldn’t afford an actual place to live?” He demanded, feeling grumpy as ‘Sara’ sauntered past, apparently headed for the shower. Mike just laughed, pulling out the Moore research with a noise of triumph. 

“Here you go, and nah I just like that it’s cheap. I don’t have any annoying neighbors, no one complains about noise, and I don’t have a landlord. I own the building,” he explained to Harvey’s raised eyebrow of inquiry. Harvey grunted, accepting the research. “Is that everything?” Mike asked, something that might have been amusement in his eyes. 

“Yeah, yes it is. Tomorrow I want you to take the lead on the Gregson meeting.” Mike raised his eyebrows. 

“Seriously? That’s huge Harvey thank you,” Harvey rolled his eyes, cutting Mike off before he gushed too much. 

“Just, don’t make me regret it okay, Rookie?” Mike grinned. 

“Of course, see you then.” they exchanged a horribly awkward goodbye before Harvey made his escape. Already texting Donna about what to do with Mike’s living situation. Obviously, he wouldn't let his associate live in an abandoned gym. He shook his head, stupid kid. Completely ridiculous. 

He went home grumpy, bit Donna’s head off when she asked him why and slept fitfully, which made Donna kick him out of bed to sleep in the guest room. This of course had nothing at all to do with the hot blonde in Mike’s apartment. Nothing. At. All.


	5. of Friends and Aquaintences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuff and things

**A Dark and Cold Room on a mountain in the Himalayas, 2003**

There are many types of fear. There’s the hot jittery fear, the kind that trembles in your bones and churns your stomach as you stare at the beautiful girl across the bar. There’s the solid fear, the kind that sits in your heart and your lungs and makes you think _I can’t_ on a loop until it’s all you can taste. There’s the coppery fear of failure, the cold fear of loss. 

Forgetting something, when you have never not once ever forgotten anything, is the kind of fear that seizes your lungs when you trip on the bottom step in the dark. That sickening drop, that jolt of surprise that shoots through you and lingers. It sticks with you even as you try to shake it off, to get on with whatever it was you had gone down the stairs to do. 

Mike Ross has never, not once, forgotten anything. He can tell you exactly how many words are in Good Night Moon. He can recite his mothers cook books by rote, and he can tell you without a doubt the scores of every single american single cyclist for the past ten years. He cannot, however, tell you anything that happened the first six months after he went missing. 

The yawning stretch of black taunts him sometimes, when he’s gone too many nights without sleep. Running on red bull and Harvey’s stern looks. He thinks about it. He knows, logically, what happened during those six months. But he doesn’t remember. 

The first thing he does remember, with startling clarity, is Talia’s face. The filtering noon sun reflected off of golden stone. The green of the tree’s outside, the smell of the flowers, the sound of the birds. The smile on her face, the trace of her fingertips across his cheek. And the feeling, the absoluteness he felt. For the first time in his life he felt whole, content, absolutely assured of the rightness of this moment. Of the woman in front of him. He knew without having to wonder or question it, that he would lay down his life for her. That she was his zenith. His sun and moon and stars. She was his. And he was hers. Absolutely. 

“Who is Mike Ross?” she had asked him. Her voice a beautiful tenor, lilted and smooth and caressing. He reveled in the sound of it, letting it settle into him like water into parched earth. 

“Mike Ross is dead. My name is Amyr Al-Jabal.” He remembers the feeling of her hair in his hands. Like watered silk through his fingers, and the smell of jasmine in the air. 

“How did you find me?” he had asked her once, sweat cooling on skin as he ran reverent hands over golden muscle, velvet covered steel. He pressed awed kisses against her shoulder, her collarbone, the mound of her belly. 

“A demon told me.” she had smile at him. Into him. Her hands on his face, warm and solid and right. Everything so perfectly right. 

“I love you.” he said. Because he could. Because it was true. As true as the mountain. As true as the stone beneath them. As sure as the life within her. 

“My _Amyr_.” her kisses tasted like salt and chocolate. He remembers sinking into them. He remembers. He remembers everything.

 

**The Cramped Copy Room at Pearson Hardman, sometimes in the afternoon**

 

“Harold, what are you doing?” Harold jumped and spun, guilt written all over his face even as he tried to hide his half-eaten sandwhich behind his back. 

“...eating.” Rachel gave him a supremely unimpressed look which he was entirely too vulnerable too. 

“In the file room?” 

“It...relaxes me.” She raised an eyebrow and he swallowed the bite of sandwhich still in his mouth. Rachel made a face and crossed her arms. She needed the Emerson files and Harold was currently in her way, dripping mayo onto the carpet. 

“I’m...hiding from Kyle.” She rolled her eyes, moving past him to get to the cabinet in question. 

“You need to stand up for yourself Harold, otherwise you won’t last another month.” finding the file she snapped the cabinet shut with a click and turned to leave, stopping in spite of herself at the look on Harolds face. 

“Look, you just...need to win them onto your side. Prove to them that you deserve to be here. Louis hired you for a reason right?” Harold gave a half-hearted shrug. In truth his aunt had gotten him this job, she and Louis had gone to school together and he was fairly certain she had stuff on him that he didn’t want getting to the firm. Harold hadn’t wanted to ask. 

“I don’t know how to get through to them. I just want them to like me.” Rachel rolled her eyes, tucking the file underneath her arm and stepping up to Harold who jerked slightly at the invasion. Quickly and efficiently she straightened his tie, pushed his curls out of his face and snatched his sandwhich, tossing it into the bin next to the fax machine. 

“Lesson one, don’t eat in the file room. It shows weakness.” she brushed off his shoulders and straightened his suit before stepping back. “Lesson two, spend some of that ridiculous associate paycheck you’re getting on an actual lunch.” she gave him a look and he belatedly tried to stand taller. Rachel sighed. “You want them to respect you, not like you, and they’ll only respect you when they fear you’re more important to the firm than they are.” 

“How do I do that?” He asked, blinking at her like an adorably lost puppydog. 

“Try, Harold.” he frowned. 

“I am trying, it doesn’t seem to be working.” Rachel felt her eyebrow twitch. 

“Look, who’s the best out of the associates?” 

“Mike.” Her eyebrow twitched again, of course he was. 

“Okay, what would Mike do?” 

“Do whatever Harvey told him to do?” 

“Is that a question?” 

“No?” she sighed, she really didn’t have time for this. 

“Figure it out, do what Mike does. If you believe you’re valuable, then so will everyone else.” and with that she spun on her heel and left, giving herself a mental shake to rid herself of the conversation. 

Harold stood there for a while, blinking at where she’d been standing. Now, Harold was a great student, if a terrible leader. He cared about what other people thought too much. His mother was constantly telling him to man up, but this was hardly good advice without an actual working definition of what that meant. Mike...no, Harold couldn’t be Mike. Mike was easily confident, graceful, handsome. He and Harvey were an incredible team. Harold could never dream of being Mike. 

Rachel though. Rachel was easily confident, great at her job, went unnoticed but not totally unappreciated. Rachel was calm, efficient, helpful. Harold could totally be Rachel. 

With a last mournful glance at the remains of his sandwich in the bin he straightened his spine, told himself to Rachel-up, and walked back to his cubicle. 

**Harvey's office, bright and early, which is to say mid afternoon and cloudy**

“Nice bruise,” Donna said, smirking at him from her cubicle. Mike resisted the urge to roll his eyes with great difficulty. Sara certainly hadn’t pulled her punches yesterday. But, on the other hand, he’d slept better than he had in months. Years if he was being honest. Perhaps he should take up sparring again. 

“Is Harvey in?” he asked, even though he could see very well that he was not. 

“You just missed him.” Donna peered at him, sliding closer to lean over her keyboard. Mike couldn’t help but feel vaguely threatened. “So,” she clicked her nails against the desk. “I hear someone had a playmate last night.” This time Mike did roll his eyes. 

“And?” he said, forcing himself into an easy stance, arms relaxed at his side. 

“Oh, nothing, I just thought you had something going with that pretty blonde before. What was her name? Jennifer?”

“Jenny and I are just friends.” He didn’t say anything about Sara, who was also blonde, because it was nobody’s business. 

“Hmm,” Donna clicked her nails some more. “And this new girl?” Mike made a face as she stared him down. It was ridiculous to be intimidated by a petite redhead, and yet; Donna clicked her nails again. Ridiculous. Mike swallowed. 

“Sara’s a friend.” Donna’s mouth ticked upwards. 

“A fun kind of friend?” Mike gave her a dry look as she glanced significantly at the bruise behind his left ear. To a less observant eye it might look like the sexy kind of bruise. When in actuality it had involved a great deal more pain and swearing. 

“Hilarious.” he slapped the file down on the cubicle. “Could you let me know when Harvey's back, I have the Summit briefs he asked for.” he spun on his heel and made to march himself back to his lonely station when he heard Donna tsk behind him. 

“Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll find out. Eventually.” Mike kept walking, feeling uncomfortable in his suit all of a sudden. 

“My secrets get people killed.” he whispered to himself as he sat down, staring blankly at the papers in front of him. _I don’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me._ he thought, and shook his head. Melancholy never helped anyone. He forced himself to focus on the work at hand. 

**aproximately four hours later, because Harvey is a petty bitch on a good day**

“Hey, Harvey here’s the briefs for the Summit case.” Mike said, bounding into Harvey’s office looking far too sunny and put together for Harveys current mood. 

“Good, follow me.” Harvey stood, buttoning his coat and walking out the door, not waiting to see if Mike was following. He’d damn well better be. 

“We’re going right now?”

“Why? Did you have somewhere else you needed to be?” Harvey stuffed his hands in his pockets, strolling along at a brisk pace, head high and smirk firmly affixed to his face. 

“Wa-no I just, don’t we have a meeting?” 

“Rescheduled, Schultzers and Bentworth flew in from the west coast this morning so we’re meeting them for lunch.” He didn’t look at Mike as he pressed the down button on the elevator. 

“Right,” Mike said, blinking and following him into the elevator. Harvey grit his teeth, the anxious energy coming off of Mike nearly palpable. 

“What?”

“It’s just- this Jessica thing,” Harvey rolled his eyes. 

“You’ll be fine, unless you want me to hold your hand through dinner with the boss. What, you afraid she’ll eat you alive?” he smirked over at him, ignoring the way Mike rolled his eyes in exasperation. 

“No it’s just, why am I having dinner with her? You don’t think she-”

“What? Found out about your illicit past in drug dealing?” Harvey snorted, “Not a chance. This is a good thing, Mike, Jessica is singling you out because you’ve been doing good work. She did the same thing with me when I was a first year.” 

“She did?” Mike raised an eyebrow, looking like an overeager labrador. 

“Same thing with Carmen, Schultz and Louis,” he made a face. “It means you’re on the right track. Don’t screw it up, and don’t make me look bad.” The elevator doors opened and they swept out into the lobey, Mike looking visibly more confident. 

“But on the off chance she does find out-” Harvey sighed in frustration, sliding into the back of the car as Ray opened the door. 

“Figure it out.” Mike deflated, falling into his seat beside Harvey and fidgeting the entire way to the restaurant. 

Perhaps Harvey was being a bit...brusque, this morning. So what? He was allowed to have an off day, so long as it didn’t interfere with his work. And it didn’t. He was a damn professional and he wasn’t going to let and off night affect that. He just hadn’t slept well the night before. Some bad shrimp. It had nothing to do with Mike and that blonde, no matter what Donna had to say about it. Nothing at all. Really. 

He ignored Mike for the rest of the day unless he was yelling at him or telling him what to do. So perhaps it wasn’t entirely unreasonable that he missed the bewildered looks Mike was shooting him. 

 

**A Very Fancy Restaurant, late that evening in the company of none other than Jessica goddamn Pearson**

“So, Mike.” Mike had met an inordinate amount of intimidating women in his life. Jessica Pearson was worryingly high on that list. 

“Yes?” he asked when she didn’t continue. Nervous. That’s how he felt. Definitely nervous. Not necessarily about Jessica, although she certainly warranted a healthy amount of anxiety on a good day. More about the rising potential for letting Harvey down. 

“Why law?” just jumping right in then. Sounds about right. He blinked down at his half-eaten fish and thought about lying. Lies were such useful things. They colored so much of his life. He was sure he could lie to Jessica’s face with eloquence and grace. He could weave a goddamn masterpiece if he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He put his fork down. 

“That’s a complicated question.” Her eyes never left his, her hands folded under chin in a pose that was somehow intimidating in its elegance. 

“No, it really isn’t.” In spite of himself Mike snorted, feeling the tension leave his shoulders. Perhaps she knew, perhaps she didn’t know. But if he was going to be honest, he might as well be as honest as possible. 

“It is in this case.” he sipped his wine, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his chin before answering. “When I was seven I wanted to be a firefighter.” He said and he saw her eye twitch, no doubt hating him a little bit for wasting her time. Some arrogant asshole first year who thought their life was so god blessed important. But, well, it was relevant to the question. 

“My mom got me a junior firefighters costume and took me to the local station. I got to ride in the truck and run the siren. I was convinced this was the career for me. For three years whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to be I would immediately say ‘I want to be a firefighter’ and then I’d infodump all over them.” he huffed an approximation of a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes, fingers idly tracing the stem of his wine glass. 

“I take it that didn’t last.” She said, sounding bored but indulgent. Mike shot her a crooked smile. 

“My parents died in a car accident when I was nine.” Surprise flickered briefly in her eyes before she schooled her expression back into cool interest. “The lawyer who handled our case handled it badly, they were hit by a drunk driver on their way home from a charity event. The insurance company refused our claim, and Grammy and I never saw a penny from the policy which should have taken care of both of us.” old anger stirred in his gut but he pushed it aside, soldiering on. “It was years before I realized we had a case. A good one. Not that it mattered, the public defender assigned to our case didn’t bother to try so,” he shrugged, swallowing the bitterness with a sip of wine. 

“My condolences.” Jessica said, voice soft. He nodded, acknowledging that she’d said something. 

“After that I stopped wanting to be a firefighter. I couldn’t stop thinking about that lawyer, who didn’t try, and who could have won. I started telling people that I was going to be a lawyer. That I was going to help people.” 

“Doesn’t sound like corporate law, why not stay at the DA’s office?” Jessica’s voice had quieted a great deal, and her eyes were kind as they held his. Points for honesty he supposed. 

“I almost did.”

“But you left to become a bike messenger,” that surprised him. She smirked, shifting in her seat to watch his face better. “You think I didn't into you background? Graduated Harvard Law in little more than two years at the top of your class. A certified child prodigy, registered genius. You were hired by the DA’s office right out of the gate only to quit at the height of your success two years later after which point you vanished off the face of the map.” she looked at him, assessing. “Why?” Mike was quiet for a bit, staring at the remains of his fish. Jessica waited. 

“How much do you know about my past?” he chanced a look at her face; impassive, professional, a woman who expects to be respected not just by her peers but by everyone and anyone around her. 

“You graduated highschool at sixteen, admitted to Columbia at seventeen, scheduled to graduate early at twenty only to be expelled for scholarly misconduct one semester away from your degree.” she leaned forward, holding his eyes. “After nearly six years you were readmitted to Harvard Law under special circumstances to complete your degree.” Mike nodded, clearing his throat. He figured blunt was best so dived in without giving himself a chance to rethink. 

“I sold tests, at Columbia. My best friend Trevor convinced me to and it was easy,” he chuckled, a dry humorless sound. “Everything has always been so goddamned easy. School was a joke, all the way into college. I kept waiting for it to get harder but it just- didn’t.” No, not then, later though. On a mountain in the cold. “But then I made the dumbass decision to sell a test to the Dean’s daughter.” he made a face, disgusted with himself. “And that was it, I was out. Trevor had a hard time hiding how damn pleased he was.” at her look he explained. “He’s...always had a hard time admitting that I’m smarter than him. Looking back he- well it probably influenced a lot of what happened back then.” he rubbed his palms on his thighs, drawing a deep breath before continuing. 

“So I was bitter, and angry, and an old friend invited me to go skiing at his families resort. Of course I said yes. Anything to get away from the stink of my own failure.” his mouth twisted at the memory. “There was an accident, and a series of very bad decisions. I ended up buried alive in an avalanche during a blizzard on a mountain in Auli.” Jessica’s eyebrows reached towards her hairline. “I was declared legally dead for five years.”

“Special circumstances indeed.” she said and Mike cracked the first genuine smile of the night. 

“Harvey found out last month, not sure how he's handling it.” 

“I bet,” she snorted, voice sardonic. “I don’t suppose you’ve elaborated on those five years?” Mike shook his head, tense, but Jessica just nodded. “But you still pursued law, after you got back.” he nodded again, letting out a breath. 

“Yeah, I did. Part of it was, keeping a promise I’d made, to myself and Grams, back when everything was normal. But it was also...for me. I needed to know that I could still be that person. That I still wanted the same things.” 

“And do you?” 

“Yeah, I do. Maybe not for the same reasons. Before I was, angry and trying to prove something. Now I- I don’t know. I enjoy it, I love the law, I love that I’m good at it. I love working with Harvey.”

“But?”

“But I’m not as angry, I’m not trying to- save the world so much as just live in it. I don’t want to conquer anything, or hurt people, I just want to do something good. Something constructive.”

“The DA’s office?” he nodded. 

“I tried, after Harvard. That was the plan.”

“What happened?” 

“Michael Coprick.” she quirked an eyebrow, “some lowlife rapist, my last case, Cameron said I needed to learn how to run before I could walk. A big Ironman fan I gathered.” she chuckled. 

“That sounds like Cameron.”

“I had a flashback.” he said, like ripping off a band-aid. Her face didn’t change, she didn’t gasp or fire him on the spot. “A bad one. He just, he looked like someone I knew, b-before.” he stuttered, gesturing lamely with one hand. “I got spooked, left, called in my notice, thanked them for the opportunity. Spent six months as a bike messenger, avoiding police precincts like the plague.” 

“What changed?” 

“Harvey.” her mouth twitched and he smiled. “I hadn’t planned on being at the interview, but Trevor had gotten me into trouble again and I ended up sort of falling through the door in a borrowed suit hiding from whoever it was that Trevor owed money to.” Her expression was inscrutable and he tried not to fidget. “We talked, Harvey offered me the job and before I knew it I was being poked at by Rene’s assistant, listening to him tut over the state of my shoes.” he caught a hastily bitten off smile and counted it as a victory. 

“And? How do you feel since? Any repeats of the DA’s office?” he shook his head. 

“I think-” he cleared his throat, pushing the truth out by force. “I think I just wasn’t ready. After I got back I didn’t give myself a chance to- adjust. I just jumped right back in to where I’d left things. I spent five years planning what I would do if I ever got home, I didn’t think about if I’d be able to do it.” 

“And are you? Capable?” 

“I think so.” he said honestly. “The work helps,” Not enough, not hardly. But having Sara around the past few days did a lot for him in terms of coping. 

“Harvey speaks very highly of you.” she said eventually. Mike did not blush, he was far too badass to blush. However a careful observer might note the tomato red tint to the tops of his ears. 

“He’s a great mentor. I learn a lot.” Jessica hummed, and Mike hoped that was a good sign. 

“You’re a good lawyer Mike, smart, honest, earnest. You’re not naive, not half-so arrogant as most first-years. But you lack ruthlessness, and in this job you need to be ruthless to get ahead. Otherwise you’ll stagnate. Sharks have to move, or else they die.” Mike surprised her by grinning. “Did I say something amusing?” 

“No, not really I just- you’re not half so evil as people think.” She smirked. 

“Oh, no, I’m much worse.” she frowned at him, calculating. He waited. “You’re not afraid of me though. Some would call that foolish.” Mike’s smile faded. 

"My definition of ‘scary’ is a bit skewed.” He shrugged. 

Now Jessica Pearson, like most lawyers of her caliber, is excellent at reading people. She was never impressed. And she had never met a man that she couldn’t see straight through. She’d seen the arrogant upstart that was a young Harvey Specter and seen the eager to please optimist with a golden heart and had nurtured him into the best damn closer this city had ever seen. She read lawyers, businessmen, bankers and congressmen like open books for her perusal. But no one had ever been as contradictory or unsettling as Mike Ross. 

A part of her wanted to fire him on the spot. An unknown variable was an unknown risk. It could come back to bite her in the ass, but Jessica hadn’t gotten to where she was without taking a few risks. Mike was a man of contradictions, a man of secrets. And yet he was an honest man, a man who had the balls to look her in the eye and tell her the truth. Intelligent, yes, and capable. He pulled off naive and approachable worryingly well for someone so damaged. This could be a huge mistake. Or it could be the first step to a long success. Only time would tell. Jessica lifted her glass. 

“To Pearson Hardman.” Mike grinned at her as they clinked glasses. 

“To Pearson Hardman.” She took a long sip. Yes, time would tell, for now she’d have to keep an eye on Mike Ross. And have a word with Harvey about his hiring practices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are one of the precious few beautiful people still keeping up with my limping little story, thank you so very much, your comments give me life. I am actually going to try to finish this, it's just that my mental health doesn't always allow me to write, I am trying though.


	6. Relevance and Circumstance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike is given orders from Jessica and Donna and Harvey finally get to meet the infamous Sara.

**The China National Trade Center, Beijing, 2005**

Corruption is like a disease. More deadly and faster spreading than any physical ailment. A cureless and devastating sickness that has ravaged our world for far longer than is logical. When a virus attacks the body logic dictates that you eradicate the virus. Destroy it in every avenue in which it can be found. 

However, death can only go so far towards peace. For it is not the individual, but the corporation that is to blame. But if you are very clever, and quite patient, you can see the strings of the corrupt being pulled, organized and dictated by a select few. The masters of corporation, the moguls and officials by whose word civilizations fall, and societies crumble. The goliath’s of corruption. 

Wan Nianzu was a man of money and influence. A man whose name quite literally moved mountains. With the flick of a finger he controlled the whole of western China. For it is not, as one might think, the leaders of a country that control things. But the rich; money is the only power that matters. At least, that’s what Nianzu thinks. 

Nianzu is wrong. 

“Thank you, Mr. President, it is our great honor to do business with you.” Sheng Gui, Nianzu’s Vice President, bowed to the screen, his accent thick and his face impassive. Nianzu had trained him well. 

“I assure you, the honor is all ours.” The white man in the expensive suit said on the screen before it flickered off. 

“Gàosù fǎlǜ wǒ xīwàng míngtiān qǐcǎo hétóng.” Nianzu said to Gui without looking, instead turning to consider the Beijing skyline. Gui bowed and left without a sound. A good vice president, Nianzu thought, never made a sound. 

It was a beautiful view, Beijing. Nianzu had always thought so, especially as the sun set beyond the high rise buildings. A city of history and honor, a grand seat of power for the world. Nianzu leaned back in his chair, well satisfied with himself. 

He never heard the door open, or the soft pad of footfalls across his floor. He never heard anything at all. Neither did anyone else. 

It was Gui who found him the next morning, blood congealed on his lavish carpet, face frozen in gentle surprise. Gui’s first thought was how this meant he no longer had to bow as he left the room. His second had a great deal to do with what to say to his wife and son that night. A horrible thing indeed, he thought. Perhaps a move was in order. They’d always said they’d leave Beijing one day. This...this might just be the opportunity they were waiting for. 

 

**Pacini's Restaurant, five till ten in the evening**

“So, are we going to talk about it or not?” Harvey paused, the immaculate chocolate fudge cake which Pacini’s was so famous for frozen halfway to his mouth. Furtively he shot a look at Mike, who looked blank. 

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean Donna.” Donna was not impressed, and the severity of her eyeroll told him so. 

“Fine, then I won’t bring up the painfully obvious elephant in the room, or the mysterious bruises on Mike’s collar bone-”

“When did you see my collar bone?”

“-but I have been instructed to relay a message, from Jessica.” She reached into her purse and for a fleeting, insane moment Mike thought she was about to pull out a gun and shoot him. In retrospect that might have been preferable. 

He glanced down at the paper she slid towards him, red mouth pursed in anticipation as his eyebrows shot up. “I’m not going to therapy.”

“Aw, it’s so cute how you think it’s up to you.” Donna pouted at him, lifting her glass of champagne in ironic salut. They were out to dinner, a weekly ritual that had become their new norm, the three of them. Mike wasn’t sure how, or why, but when Harvey pulled him into a five star restaurant to tag along on their date, well, who was he to argue? He’d never been one to turn down a free meal, anyway. 

“Therapy?” Harvey asked dryly, trying to sound as though it didn’t concern him, judging by Donna’s eyebrow he didn’t succeed. 

“By order of the fearless Ms. Pearson Mike is hereby mandated to attend therapy until further notice.” Mike made a face and Donna smirked at him. “You must have made quite the impression at that dinner there champ.” Mike did not blush, but he did feel vaguely as though he ought to. Sara was, by no means, allowed to find out about this. 

“I don’t need therapy.” Mike tried again, valiantly, Harvey might add. He could have told him it was a losing battle. 

“Agree to disagree.” Donna clipped, sitting back in her chair and looking as regal and queenly as possible. “Now, tell me what you’ve prepared for the Mock Trial.” 

“Shouldn’t Harvey be asking me that?” Mike said after a moment trying to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. 

Donna snorted, “It’s adorable that you think that, now, Mock Trial?” Harvey rolled his eyes, trying to focus on his delicious, delicate fudge cake instead of the way the top button of Mike’s shirt was open and revealing a fresh bruise, big and dark and damning. He stabbed his cake with a bit more vehemence than necessary. Donna ignored him. 

“I’m not going to trial.” Mike shrugged, pushing the remains of his salad around his plate. And really, what grown man ate salad? 

“Go on,” Donna said, dangerously. 

“Plea deal, we’re going to settle out of court.”

“Interesting,” Donna tapped her lip, eyes narrowed. “Harvey, what do you think?” Damn her, and here he’d thought he could make it through dinner unscathed. 

“Puppy’s got the right idea, it’ll impress the partners, and give him more time to work on real cases.” he saluted Mike with his fork, making the horrible mistake of making eye contact. Mike’s eyes were very blue, blue and deep and sparkling slightly in the dim lighting of the restaurant. He refocused on his cake, which was almost gone. Damn. 

“Right, right, what if you can’t settle out of court?” Donna sounded far too much as though she were enjoying herself. 

Mike shrugged. “Then I’ll thrash Kyle, impress Jessica and the partners anyway, and still get done with my caseload on time.” Cocky little bastard wasn’t he, Harvey almost smiled. Almost. 

“Have you got a witness?” Mike hesitated. Pointedly hesitated. Harvey looked up. Foolish really, he should have known better. But Mike was blushing, or what passed for a blush anyway. 

“Ah, yeah, a friend of mine agreed to do it, in case Kyle doesn’t settle.”

“He won’t.” Harvey said, surprising himself. He cleared his throat, ate the last of his cake. Mourned the last of his cake. Mike just nodded good naturedly. 

“A friend?” Donna pried. 

“Yeah.” Mike didn’t elaborate, Harvey was silently quite grateful. 

“And what about Mrs. Philips?” Mike looked at Donna and barked out a laugh at the unrestrained _want_ on her face. 

“Donna would you like to be Mrs. Philips?” 

“Well I suppose, if you’re desperate.” She shrugged, feigning nonchalance badly and smirking over the rim of her glass. 

“What’s her name?” Harvey blinked, he hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t meant to say anything at all, he squinted at his glass, wondering if perhaps Donna had slipped something into it. 

“Sara,” Mike cleared his throat, not meeting his eyes. “She’s just a friend.” Harvey grunted. 

“Ahuh,” Donna snorted “is she where you got that bruise there big boy?” she pulled down on Mike’s collar with the tip of one deadly red fingernail. Mike jerked back, hand coming up to cover the offending mark. 

“She ah, well we were just, it’s nothing.” 

“Don’t hurt yourself hot shot, we’re all grownups, we all do...grownup things.” Great, now Harvey was blushing. “Besides, if she’s your witness then we’ll all get to meet this Friend Sara, should be a _blast_.” somehow Mike doubted that very much. 

 

**Pearson Hardman, the Associate Pit, otherwise known as the pit of despair**

“Come on Kyle, even you have to see the brilliance in this.” Mike would not beg, especially not to someone as low, slimy and smug as Kyle. But he would persuade. He would persuade very hard. 

“You’re just afraid you can’t beat me in open court Ross.” Kyle sneered and Mike had to count to ten, and then backwards, and then in mandarin. 

“We both know you don’t have much of a case Kyle, or any real trial experience, something which I have a lot of.” he resisted the urge to grit his teeth at him like a dog. Peace and serenity, peace and serenity. 

“As if Ross, I’m the Mock Trial Champion five years running, you have no chance.” With a leering grin and a cock sure swagger Kyle tucked the plea agreement back into Mike’s suit jacket and sauntered off. 

“Boy he’s an ass, I’d really like to stab him.” Mike snorted, turning to Sara who was leaning casually against his cubicle. 

“He’s also an idiot, I’m going to cream him.”

“You’d better, otherwise I’ll end up doing something we’ll both regret.” Sara shot him a feral grin and he shook his head. The trial started in 45 minutes, he was already all prepared, he was just dreading-

“Mike!” that, he was dreading that. Sara’s grin grew more wicked. 

“Harvey,” Mike turned, trying to inconspicuously block Sara from view. 

“I need the Harrison briefs,” Mike handed them over, having anticipated this twenty minutes ago. 

“So, you must be the famous Harvey Specter.” Sara clicked her tongue, giving Harvey a slow once over. Mike resisted the urge to throw something at her. Preferably something sharp. 

“And you must be the infamous Sara,” Harvey leveled her with The Look. Mike had seen The Look before, it had driven many a female client to her knees in gratitude or...other things. Sara though, just grinned wider. Like a shark.

“Infamous? I’m sure I have no idea what you mean. Mike? You haven’t been telling stories about me have you?” She didn’t even look at him, her eyes never leaving Harvey’s, assessing, judging, flirting. 

“Did I hear that right? This is _the_ Sara?” Mike wasn’t sure what he’d done in a past life to make God hate him so much, but he was truly, very sorry for it. Whatever it was. 

“And who are you?” Sara purred, literally purred, eyes falling to half mast as she licked her lips. Mike actually took half a step back, it was that powerful of a move. Damn. Donna, to her credit, just smiled. 

“Donna Paulson, I’m Harvey’s assistant.” Mike had never seen Donna be demure before, it...didn’t look right. 

“Assistant? Interesting.” Sara took a step forward, shaking Donna’s hand slowly, somewhat inappropriately, “Sara Lance, friend of Mike’s.”

“Ohkay, well, not that this isn’t fun but the Mock Trial is about to start. Harvey, I’ll see you at the meeting. Donna, I’ll see you at trial. Sara if you would just-” he gestured and then actually pulled her away. 

“Could you not traumatize my boss please?” he hissed, Sara just laughed at him. 

“You never told me Donna was hot as in burning.” she chuckled, looking over her shoulder at her. 

“Hands off Sara, I’m serious, she and Harvey are like...a thing.” he said weakly, steering her into the library. 

“A closed ‘thing’ or an open ‘thing’?” Sara asked and Mike drew up short cause that...hadn’t actually occurred to him as an option before. He shook his head, it didn’t matter, mostly. Nope. Didn’t matter. The universe wasn’t that kind to him, so it’s not like. Yeah….no. Definitely not. 

“Ahuh,” Sara was laughing at him again. She seemed to do that a lot. 

The Trial went as expected, Donna cried, Kyle grandstanded, Mike won. Sara, to everyone's imminent surprise, got Jessica to laugh in the middle of it, and then she winked at her, cause she's Sara. Mike sometimes wonders at his own sanity in keeping her as a friend. Then again, who else was willing to step into a ring with him? He supposed they were stuck with each other now. 

"Mike," he straightened, turning to Jessica with a polite not and the right amount of fearful deference, "good job." she turned to Sara and smiled, a sharp, deadly looking smile. "Ms. Lance, a pleasure."

"The pleasure was all mine." Sara schmoozed. Mike didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified. He settled on both. Jessica, for her part, just smiled and walked away. 

"Must you flirt with everything that moves?" he hissed, gathering his things. 

"Only the very hot things." she grinned at him, bumping his hip. 

"Nice job puppy," Donna said, wiping at her running makeup daintily, "very impressive."

"You weren't half bad yourself Ms. Paulson." Donna actually blushed, Mike hadn't even known that was possible. And because his life was a cosmic joke and he lived only at the expense of the vengeful gods above, at that moment Harvey sauntered up. 

"Well, now that that's out of your system you can get back to real work." He _looked_ relaxed, hands in his pockets and his standard Harvey Swagger on point, but the way his eyes darted between Donna and Sara was nothing but tense and suspicious. Mike didn't blame him, he should have known better than to put Sara and Donna in the same building together. 

"Aw, and here I was hoping we could all go out to dinner." Sara pouted prettily, batting her eyelashes at Harvey, who only looked constipated. Mike felt oddly vindicated about that, though he wasn't sure why. 

"Yeah Harvey, a nice dinner out with friends would be wonderful. I could get to know Mike's girlfriend better." She grinned evilly at him and Mike almost took a step back. Harvey, being the impressive lawyer he was, only blinked, reassessed, and took action. 

"I have a meeting with Burnsby and Filch in twenty minutes, but I'm sure if Ms. Lance is willing to wait we could all go find some food. Perhaps Angelo's?" Donna grinned in triumph. 

"Excellent Mr. Specter, in the meantime I'm sure I can find something to keep Ms. Lance occupied." Mike felt himself break out into a cold sweat. 

"Uh, maybe-I mean, I could-"

"Run along Mike, wouldn't want to keep Burnsby and Filch waiting." Donna shooed him, and Sara didn't even spare him a glance. 

Harvey didn't speak to him on the way to the meeting, or during the meeting, or after. Mike had no idea what to say, to Harvey or Donna. Deny that Sara was his girlfriend? Again? It didn't seem to deter either of them. Apologize for Sara's outrageous flirting? He doubted that would do any good either since he had no control over what Sara would or wouldn't do. Commiserate over the frankly terrifying women in their lives? Possible if only he could get passed the ball of nerves lodged in his throat. This melding of worlds was proving to be a more than he'd anticipated, even if this was arguably Sara's best behavior. 

"Mike! Wonderful you're boring meetings done. I booked a table at Angelo's for 8:30 so if we leave now we should be on time." Donna jumped up, purse in hand. 

"My schedule for tomorrow?" Harvey asked in a half-hearted attempt at derailing Donna's plans. 

"Already laid out and waiting for you, honestly Harvey I'm not _new_." she rolled her eyes, sharing a look with Sara and honestly they'd only been alone together for less than twenty minutes but there they were marching towards the elevator together, arm in arm. Mike shrugged and Harvey sighed and they both headed off after them. It was going to be a long night. 

**An hour, several awkward silences and not enough alcohol later, at Angelo's**

"I thought my dad's head was going to spin right off his neck," Sara shook her head, downing the rest of her whiskey easily and leaning back in her chair. Donna laughed uproariously, swirling her wine delicately. "Benefits of being a cops kid I guess." Sara chuckled. 

"Indeed," Donna's eyes had that sparkle that meant she was about to pounce. She'd lured her prey out into the open and now was the time to spill blood. "So, Sara, cops daughter from a small city on the other side of the country. What brings you to New York?" Mike doubts anyone else would have recognized the shadow flashed across Sara's eyes, but then he was very familiar with shadows. 

"Just passing through on my way home." Sara said smoothly, face a pleasant mask. 

"Oh? Where were you before?" 

"Traveling abroad," she shrugged. "Wanted to see the world, that sort of thing." Her eyes cut over to Mike, who'd spent the last hour or so trying to drown in his pasta. Harvey wasn't much better, offering only perfunctory answers and the occasional grunt. "Thought I'd drop in on an old friend." 

"Hm, how nice. How did you two meet? If you don't mind my asking?" Donna's butter wouldn't melt tone of voice made Mike's hackles raise and his skin prickle. But he knew better than to get between them now. All he could do was hope that the carnage wouldn't be too bad. 

"The gym actually," Sara replied easily. it wasn't actually a lie. They had met in a gym, a very remote and difficult to get to gym, on the other side of the world. "I needed a sparring partner with a little more kick in him and Mike volunteered." she nudged his knee with hers and he sent her a small smile. 

"Sparring partner?" Harvey suddenly asked, perking up from where he'd been drooped over his meatballs like a wilting daisy. 

"Yeah, Krav Maga mostly, but a little wing chung as well." Mike tried not to let his distress show on his face. He wasn't sure he wanted Donna and Harvey to know about his...skills. Any of his skills beyond his freaky brain skills. 

"What?" Mike wasn't sure he'd ever seen Harvey caught off guard. It was...alarming, and more than a little attractive if he was being honest with himself. 

"Yeah you'd be surprised, I know he looks like a noodle but he packs a mean punch." Mike made himself relax. This was okay. It was okay for Harvey and Donna to know this about him, there was nothing dangerous about it. He did know Krav Maga, and Wing Chung. And several other martial arts. Everything was fine. 

"Mike! You punched a lady?" Donna gasped, hand to her chest. Mike snorted. 

"I'm not sure I'd call her a lady," Sara elbowed him in the gut and he slapped her arm. 

"I am so a lady!" she protested, pulling on his ear. 

"Ouch! Stop that! Yesterday you farted on my head!" which was true, but also not exactly dinner conversation. Sara kicked him in the shin. 

"You pulled my hair!" 

"You kicked me in the balls!" The childish pinching continued as Donna and Harvey watched. 

"The bruises..." Harvey trailed off, Donna patted him on the shoulder. 

"I knew there had to be an explanation." She said, as though she hadn't spent an entire morning cursing the air blue over Mike's supposed fuck buddy. 

"Ow! Let go!" Mike slapped half heartedly at Sara as she pinched his nose. Harvey cleared his throat and, reluctantly, they pulled away from each other. 

"So...not your girlfriend." Donna said finally, looking smug. Mike rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah, as I said. Multiple times." Sara made a face. 

"Aw, come on we could have had them going for at least a few more days." Mike stuck his tongue out at her. 

"Ahuh, well I wouldn't want to date you anyway. You're a blanket hog, and you steal all the hot water and you have shit taste in beer." Sara gasped in outrage. 

"I beg your pardon I have great taste in beer, and all other forms of alcohol. You're just a light weight," everyone was a light weight compared to Sara, but Mike didn't feel like bringing up That Night just now. "Besides, why would I date you if I could spend the evening with the lovely and diverting Ms. Paulson." She winked at Donna who actually giggled. Mike rolled his eyes. 

"You are actually pathological, I hope you know." she kicked him again. "ow! Stop that you're gonna give me another bruise!" to add to his collection. Donna started laughing. 

"You know, they actually remind me of you and Marcus." She said, hiding a smile behind a hand. Harvey rolled his eyes, taking a drink. 

"Please, we are far more sophisticated than...that." he gestured to where Sara and Mike were not so subtly pinching each other. 

"Ahuh, the dinner party of '09 comes to mind." Harvey leveled a finger at her. 

"You promised you'd never bring that up again." she raised her hands in surrender. 

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant conversation and playful jabs, the veritable ice berg of awkwardness seemingly had dissolved. And if Mike and Harvey spent the rest of the evening sending each other not so subtle glances, well, that was neither here nor there. And Harvey, feeling lighter than he had in days, spent a good few hours that night expressing his appreciation for Donna's brilliance. She, in turn, reciprocated. 

"I told you there was nothing to worry about." she said into the cooling air, the smell of sex and sweat thick around them. Harvey grunted, which was as much of an acquiescence as she was going to get from him, she knew. All in all, a night well spent in her opinion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, well this took way longer than it should have. Sorry about that. Better late than never?


	7. Cold and Comeuppance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike attends therapy

**Some ungodly hour the next day**

Mike had no intention of going to therapy. However, Mike had underestimated Donna Paulsen. How this was possible he wasn’t sure. When Mike had met Donna he’d immediately and reverently recognized the keen intelligence in her eyes, the efficiency with which she managed her boss and the calm calculation in the way she watched him. He’d recognized it, feared it, and conducted himself accordingly. 

Perhaps he’d just underestimated how much she cared. Since he’d been hired he’d had the firm impression that she viewed him as something of a pet. Like she and Harvey had taken in an adorable if slightly rabid stray that she was obligated to feed and water every day. Maybe that’s what this was; pity. 

In any event he hadn’t expected her to appear at his apartment at nine on a Saturday. He wasn’t surprised she knew where he lived, more that she’d deign to enter this part of Brooklyn. 

“Donna?” He asked, shrugging his coat onto his shoulders. He’d just finished his morning workout so he was a bit sweaty. Donna’s eyebrow ticked up, eyed him up and down like a piece of meat before she smirked in an entirely too slytherin way to be comforting. 

“You’re appointment is in forty five minutes, you have ten minutes to get showered and dressed and then we’re headed over.” Mike blinked at her, feeling two pages behind and out of synch. Donna rolled her eyes and shouldered past him. “Hello Sara,” She said as Sara stepped out of the steaming shower, wrapped only in a towel and looking not at all surprised to see Donna in Mike's apartment. 

“Are you...driving me?” Mike asked, pulling the attention back to himself as Sara excused herself to get dressed.

“Of course not we’re taking a taxi now scoot.” he scooted, making sure to lock the bathroom door behind him before disrobing. 

After Mike had gotten back to New York and finished his degree he’d considered a number of possible avenues, eventually settling on Cameron Dennis and the DA's office. But the first thing he’d done was find a place to live that wasn’t Trevor’s couch. 

It wasn’t exactly high end, but it served his purposes. Strictly speaking it wasn’t an apartment, which was probably why it was so cheap. He’d bought it off the old owner for half the price due to the hole in the back wall that gave way to the storage area. It used to be a boxing gym, complete with all the equipment still mostly intact. He’d cleaned it up some, bought a small bed and some basic furniture. He could definitely afford better with his salary but….well. After five years sleeping on irregular surfaces he couldn’t quite stomach a normal bed just yet. Besides, he liked his place. It had everything he needed in one convenient location. Sans a kitchen, but it wasn’t like he did too much cooking anyways. 

Donna did not share this opinion. She surveyed his ‘living area’ with open disdain mingled with growing horror. Mike had a couch that had seen better days, a small twin bed with comfortable if plain bedding and a coffee table strewn with takeout containers. There was a long table set up on one wall that contained his laptop and a number of books, beside it was a large and heavily populated bookshelf. An ice chest sat in the corner beside a large padlocked box. The entire room was dominated, however, by the large boxing ring, across from which hung a punching bag beside a tall metal workout thing which she didn’t have a name for. 

Spartan was a word that came to mind. Sad was another. “Oh, Mike.” she sat, heavily, on his couch and allowed herself a moment to quietly freak out and collect herself. Did Harvey know? No, he’d strong arm the kid into moving, and while she didn’t think that was a bad idea necessarily, it probably wouldn’t go well. 

"It's not as bad as it looks." Donna started, somehow she'd forgotten that Sara was there. "I mean, it's pretty sparse, but I've certainly lived in worse." she collapsed on the couch next to her, dressed casually and comfortably, hair still wet from her shower. 

"I shudder to imagine." Donna said, sitting primly in her seat, back not touching the cushion. Sara snorted. 

"Look, Mike, he's complicated. So am I, but he's comfortable here. It's his space, this is where he feels safe. All things considered that's pretty spectacular." Donna looked at her sharply, eyes narrowed. Sara didn't flinch, her gaze steady and unwavering. 

"He's told you then, about what happened." Sara shrugged one shoulder. 

"Some, not all of it. I doubt he'll ever talk about all of it. Therapy might be good for him, or it could be a disaster." she held Donna's gaze, her eyes hard. "You need to be prepared for that too, certain things are meant to stay buried, bringing them up could do far more harm than good." 

"Or it could be just the thing he needs to move on." Sara allowed that, not saying anything for a long moment before shrugging. 

"Perhaps." she left it at that, getting up and pulling out a large duffel.

"You leaving?" Donna asked. 

"Not for another couple days, but soon yeah. Can't hide forever." she shot a self-deprecating grin over her shoulder. Donna had nothing to say to that. 

“Almost finished!” Mike called. That, Donna could deal with. Walking over to the dresser she pulled out something marginally acceptable. 

“Open up, I’ve got clothes.” 

“You what-” the door opened to reveal Mike’s dripping head. She caught the edge of a long pink scar across one shoulder before she shoved the clothes into his arms. “You picked out my clothes?” he made a face and she raised her eyebrows. Smart boy that he was he just retreated back into the bathroom to change. 

At least the idiot had a shower. Looking around she couldn’t help but wonder how he got any heating, it must be freezing in the winter. Mike finished with his shower quickly and emerged fully clothed, looking tired but clean. 

"Going for a run?" Mike asked Sara, pulling his shoes on. 

"Yup, I should be back before you finish talking about your feelings." she wiggled her eyebrows at him and he punched her shoulder playfully. 

“Is this really necessary?” he asked turning back to Donna, looking around for his keys as she grabbed her bag from the table, waving goodbye at Sara. 

“Yes Mike, daily hygiene is an important part of adulthood.” Sara snorted behind them as Mike closed the door.

“You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes, pushing him into the car. 

“How many people have you talked to about what happened?” Silence, she raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed, slumping in his seat a little. 

“I’m fine, I don’t need therapy.”

“That’s what people who need therapy say.” They rode in sulky silence. Dr. David Monroe, a licensed therapist, trauma counselor and clinical psychologist. He had a reputation for discretion and a high success rate for clients who’d experienced extreme trauma. Donna wasn’t sure what Mike had gone through during those five years, but she was fairly certain it fit the bill of ‘extreme’. 

“I’ll be waiting when you’re done.” she told Mike in the waiting room outside of Dr. Monroe’s office. 

“You don’t need to do that.” She ignored him, fishing in her bag for her phone. 

“We’re going to Luigi’s for lunch, you’re buying. Oh, and Harvey will be there; something about Rob’s Barber Shop.” 

“I thought I closed that case?” Donna shrugged, tapping out a message to Harvey about the lunch spot before putting her phone away as the door opened to reveal Dr. Monroe. 

David Monroe was middle aged, reasonably handsome in a cardigan sort of way, with thinning brown hair and kind, crinkly blue eyes. Donna smiled at him and unsubtly shoved Mike forward. 

“I’ll see you in an hour.” She told him and sauntered off to do whatever it was Donna did, probably take over the world. 

“You must be Mr. Ross, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Dr. Monroe shook his hand and welcomed him inside. There was a couch, to Mike’s amusement, and also a desk and a comfortable looking chair. It was very-homey, with a distinct therapy feeling that put Mike on edge. He opted for the chair. 

“Mike is fine.” he said, examining the photos on the wall. 

“Of course, and you can call me David if you like; Dr. Monroe is a bit formal.” Mike gave him an awkward smile and folded his hands to keep from fidgeting. “So, Mike, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself. Ms. Paulsen said you’re a lawyer?”

“Yeah, I work at Pearson Hardman.” 

“Wow, that’s an impressive firm. I expect you’re kept quite busy.” 

“Yeah, you could say that.” 

“Have you always wanted to be a lawyer?” Mike snorted, leaning back in the chair and running a hand through his hair. “Is something wrong?” 

“Is this...is this it? You just, ask me questions about my job?” 

“What would you like me to ask questions about?” Dr. Monroe was kind enough, Mike supposed, in a studied, intentional sort of way. The sort of kindness that held very still, surveyed him with a bit too much focus. It was making him uneasy. 

“I don’t know, Ms. Pearson’s the one who insisted I go to therapy so...I don’t even know why I’m here.” Liar. Mike thought. He knew exactly why he was here. The worried, pinched look on Donna’s face, the amount of force in Harvey’s voice when he’d found out. 

“Ms. Pearson, that’s your boss?” Mike nodded, surveying Dr. Monroe right back. His eyes were keen, but tired. The kind of tired one got with too many secrets, too much sadness. His mouth quirked up at the corners just slightly, not quite a smile but not a frown either. His voice was gentle, unhurried and unsurprised. He reminded him of Robin Williams, oddly enough, from Good Will Hunting. A weathered, sad man who nonetheless spent his days trying to help. Mike immediately felt bad just for being there, taking up his time. 

“Why does she think you need therapy?” There was humor in the question, if Mike cared to mention it. 

“She...she found out some things. About my past.” he carefully folded his hands in his lap, easing his breath and adjusting the placement of his feet. 

“What things?” Mike resisted the urge to shrug, to duck his head. To play it off like nothing. 

“A while ago I- there was an accident.” Dr. Monroe said nothing, waiting for Mike to continue. “I was on a ski trip in the Himalayas, staying up in Auli. There was a blizzard, and an avalanche. I got buried.” Surprise registered on Dr. Monroe’s face, he made a note. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The question surprised him, for some reason he’d expected to be questioned on his feelings concerning the experience. Led through the emotional roller-coaster of that part of his life.

“No.” Dr. Monroe was quiet a moment, just watching him in a considering sort of way. What he saw Mike wasn’t sure. 

“Okay.” Some part of Mike relaxed, coming down from the ledge he’d perched himself on. “What about something else, do you have any hobbies? Friends? I hear knitting is good for the soul.” Mike huffed a laugh, as he was meant to. A little more of the tension leaked away. 

“I have an eidetic memory, me and Trevor, my best friend, we used to play this game. I’d memorize an encyclopedia and we’d watch jeopardy. We used to make bets until he kept losing,” Mike shook his head. Simpler times. Of course then Trevor had discovered they could make money this way and they’d taken to the bars, scamming people. That lasted until they attracted a little too much attention. The memory felt cold now, distant. 

“You say you used to, why not anymore?” 

“After I- after I got back things were different, and Trevor,” Mike swallowed, unsure how to describe his tenuous relationship with the man who had once been closer than a brother. “We grew apart.” 

“Okay, what about your other friends?” Dr. Monroe asked kindly, hands folded in his lap. “A young man like you, must make friends quite easily.” 

“Yeah, not so much.” Mike huffed a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh, bracing his elbows on his knees. “In school I never really got along with most kids. I was too smart, too much of a know-it-all. Trevor, and Tess I guess. They were my only friends for a long time.” 

“And now?” 

“Just work really, and Jenny.” He felt himself twitch, remembering his last conversation with Jenny. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, he would never hurt her. Not intentionally. But as much as he loved her as a sister and a friend, he couldn't give her what she wanted. Not her, not anyone. 

“Jenny?” 

“Trevor’s ex.” Dr. Monroe raised an eyebrow and Mike rolled his eyes. “It’s a long story.” the doctor smiled, spreading his hands, 

“Please, long stories are what I live for.” Mike smiled in spite of himself. 

“After I-” he cleared his throat, waving a hand to indicate his return from the dead which he hadn’t actually told the doctor about yet and wasn’t sure he was going to. The doctor didn’t ask. “Trevor and Jenny were all I had, besides my Gram- my Grandmother. Jenny- well she was too good for Trevor. Always was. Trevor..he always had a knack for attracting trouble. I found out he was dealing drugs, lying about it to her, to me- Jenny found out and they broke up.”

“And Trevor? Where is his now?” 

“Montana.” Dr. Monroe raised his eyebrows in a clear expression of amused surprise. 

“And how do you feel about that?” Mike glanced at him and caught the twitch of one corner of his mouth, the humor of the cliche’d phrase not lost on him then. The question remained. 

“Fine.” Dr. Monroe did not believe him, he made another note. 

“But you still talk to Jenny?” 

“She’s my friend.” 

“But?” Dr. Monroe raised an eyebrow and Mike resisted the urge to make a face and hunch in on himself. 

“But what?” now Dr. Monroe rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair. 

“Believe it or not I wasn’t born yesterday. I can hear a silent ‘but’ at the end of a sentence as much as anyone else. She wants more? With you that is.” Mike considered him, the doctor seemed to be changing tactics. Moving easily from ‘Generic Therapist’ to ‘easy-going counselor’ in the blink of an eye. It was a tactic, clearly, he’d made a decision about how to approach Mike and was employing it now. Mike wasn’t sure how he felt about this. 

“We’re just friends.” it was a poor attempt at sidestepping the topic, but Jenny was a far safer option than almost anything else they could be talking about. 

“That doesn’t answer the question.” 

“She- may have made a pass.” Or two. Well three. Technically. He’d been a gentleman and turned her down gently all three times. Grammy had raised him right after all. 

“And? You don’t feel the same way?” Dr. Monroe leaned onto the arm, propping his head on his fist as he surveyed Mike, musing. “Or is it Trevor? Does he still have feelings for her?” 

“Jenny broke up with him, Trevor’s still pretty gone on her as far as I know.” Mike leaned back, rubbing his palms over his pants. “And I- I’m not going to get in between that.” Dr. Monroe was silent for a moment, thinking this over. 

“But, you said yourself Trevor was lying to her. He was dealing drugs, clearly in a bad place. Perhaps he’s doing better now but Jenny has clearly made her choice. Now, it could be that you are simply that loyal to your friend- or it could be that you have other reasons for not wanting to be with her.” 

“I told you, she’s my friend.” 

“And you don’t want to jeopardize that.” 

“Exactly.” Mike resisted the urge to cross his arms over his chest. 

“Are you attracted to her?” Mike twitched, frowned, stilled and reassessed. How to answer that? 

“Yes.” Honesty, Mike had found, whenever possible, aught to be exploited. 

“So you care for her, and you’re attracted to her. So the only thing stopping you from being with her is your loyalty to Trevor.” It was an easy out, Mike thought. But his spine itched, crawled up his back and made his shoulders tense. “Unless there’s something else holding you back?” 

“I’m not-” he made a vague, helpless gesture, biting his lip and looking anywhere but at Dr. Monroe. 

“You’re not what?” 

“Jenny’s a good person. She deserves someone better, someone who's not-” broken, a liar, a fraud. Monster. “She deserves someone good.” 

“Are you not ‘good’ Mike?” the question was gentle, softly spoken and tentative. But it landed like a solid weight in Mike’s chest. 

“I’m not whole.” he clenched his jaw, chewing over what he could say. What he wanted to say. “I can’t- she deserves someone who can be with her a hundred percent. Someone who’s there. I can’t talk about- there are things I can’t tell her. Parts of myself I can’t show her. She’s my friend and I love her, but not like that.” Not selfish enough, or too much of a coward to try he’s not sure. It’s the same reason he skirts around Rachel, avoiding her glances and returning her flirty comments with only the barest of polite responses. Some days it’s all he can do to get out of bed, some days it feels like he’s burning from the inside out. Like if he touches anyone they’ll burn too. 

“What sorts of things?” Mike opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. He blows out a breath and shakes his head. 

“I can’t.” Dr. Monroe is quiet, watches him for a while before nodding and looking at his watch. 

“It seems we’ve come to the end of our hour anyway. It was nice speaking with you Mike, I’d like to meet again next week, same time?” Mike nodded, jerkily. Donna had already told him as much. No matter what shit storm was going down at work, he was not allowed to miss therapy. 

“So, how’d it go.” Donna asked when he walked out. 

“Donna can we, can we not talk about it? Please.” her eyebrow quirked up but she nodded, leading him out to the car that would take them to lunch. 

“So, what can we talk about?” she asked, sliding her eyes over him with quick efficiency, probably cataloging everything from his sneakers to the state of his hair. 

“Work, baseball, movies- anything else.” he said as he sank into the seat with a sigh. 

“How bout them Mets eh?” Mike laughed. 

“Can’t say I’ve been keeping up to be honest.” Donna huffed a mocking groan of outrage. 

“Well that’s terribly rude of you Mike, first you restrict my conversation topics and then you don’t even have the decency to be well informed. What has a girl got to do to for some scintillating discourse around here!” Mike felt himself relaxing into the banter, laughter bubbling in his chest. Somehow Donna was always able to do that, whatever mood he was in, however deep, she could always pull him out again. 

“What can I say, I’m not terribly interested in being polite, or heterosexual.” she gasped, hand clasped to her breast in drama. 

“The scandal! The impropriety! What will the neighbors say!” he couldn’t quite help the grin threatening to take over his face. 

“That I am a bisexual heathen bound for satans fiery pits.” he said gravely, shaking his head. 

“Well dear, at least you’ll have good company. Or, well, not me obviously I’m a saint- but Harvey I’m sure.” they met each others eyes and immediately burst into laughter. And God it felt good to laugh. Mike didn’t think he’d laughed like this in years, slowly he allowed himself to lean back into the leather seats and forget everything he used to be. In this moment he was just Mike; Donna's friend and coworker, and they had nothing better to do than laugh.. 

 

**Too Many Years Ago, on a mountain without a name**

Repetition was the key to absolution. If he just said it enough eventually his brain would believe it. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

The hit was a basic one, corrupt business man in Tokyo. Three days, in and out, no muss no fuss, not even that much blood. Or at least, that had been the plan. Talia always sent him after the hot shots. Big wigs in their fancy suits and expensive watches. Partially because they both knew he could blend into that world, but also because he was the best at staging the scenes. Killing was one thing, telling a story however, that was a different skill. Sell the lie. 

Only Mr. Misutskuzi had been keeping some rather alarming secrets. Notably his far too prepared security detail. Lots of businessmen in Japan employed the Yazuka, organized crime tied into big money. It wasn’t surprising. However, the _Shinigami_ , Death Gods. Those were a different story. 

Amyr cursed his stupidity, his bad luck, whatever stroke of lazy had landed him in this situation. The hit was messy, loud, and sloppy. A hail of bullets and blood that rained down in the upscale business building. But, Mr. Misutskuzi was definitely dead. So he’d done that much at least. 

Getting out of Japan was a simple matter, once he was out of the Death Gods cross-hairs. Gods of death or not, he was trained by Talia al Ghul, they never stood a chance. He didn’t bother with burial or staging here, a gang war was story enough and self evident. Standing in that building, swanky chandelier swaying above him with soft jazz playing in the background. Surrounded by bodies and covered in blood. 

There was also the matter of the stab wound. Or, stab wounds. Which had lead to the repetition. Sequestered on a freighter headed to China he had wedged himself between some boxes, covered in scrounged blankets with makeshift bandaging keeping him from bleeding out. Mind over matter. Mind over matter. 

“I’m not bleeding.” he said. In english, in japanese, in chinese, in a dozen different languages. “I’m not cold and I’m not bleeding.” His body begged to differ. 

He eventually started distracting himself with thoughts of home. It was Amal’s birthday in three days, hopefully Amyr would be home by then. Two years old already, time was such a funny thing. He knew he fussed more than was proper, Talia didn’t approve, but the doctors had said Amal’s lungs were getting stronger. Soon he’d be able to walk. He had wanted to be home prior to his birthday, but Talia had insisted on his involvement. She’d basically ordered him to go, which she hadn’t done since they’re wedding. 

It was his fault he knew. He was too high strung, stressed out over Amal’s health, but the boy was so small. His lungs, his legs. He would grow stronger, Amyr was sure, but he needed time and encouragement. Amyr was sure he was driving Talia mad with his worrying over their son. He couldn’t help it. 

The trip back to the monastery took longer than he had hoped. A blizzard had hit the mountain, causing him to lose several days in a cabin, waiting out the storm. Eventually the weather abated and he made the long journey up to his home. To his family. 

He knew the moment he stepped through the door that something was wrong. The candles were lit. The curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. Someone was burning incense. 

“Talia…” she stood, back facing him and his heart was too loud in his ears. It needed to quiet down, he couldn’t hear...he couldn’t hear Amal’s quiet greeting. He always greeted him when he came home. Always. 

“He passed in the night.” Amyr blinked, something fuzzy and distant clicking in his head as he stared at Talia, uncomprehending. She was holding something. Some small, lumpy thing. Like a blanket folded in on itself. 

“Talia.” he didn’t know why he kept on saying her name but he kept remembering flashes, fire and ice and a mountain. _My name is Amyr Al-Jabal._

“He was too weak. You knew he would not last.” She laid the lumpy thing on the stone table. The torches blazed and Amyr- _Mike Ross is dead. My name is Amyr Al-Jabal._

“He was getting better.” He heard himself say, staring in fixed concentration at Talia’s face, unable to acknowledge the object lying between them. 

“He would never have been one of us. Amyr-” What was wrong with her? This was not his Talia. The mother of his son. Her eyes were so cold. When had they become so cold? Daughter of the Demon. She regarded him in silence, dark eyes like a single abyss that threatened to drown him. 

“Amal-” his throat closed. Would not open again. Amal’s bright smile, the light in his eyes as he played, the victory of his face when he succeeded. _My name is_ \- Talia tried to touch him and he jerked back. The feeling of her finger tips like icy fire on his skin. He stumbled backwards. 

“Amyr,” he shook his head, hands coming up to grip his hair as he stared. Stared at that small lumpy thing. So small. Like a child. 

“No!” he yelled, voice too loud, throat hoarse with the effort. The sound ripped out of him and he was screaming, screaming and tearing at his hair and then Talia was coming at him and he reacted. Instinct drilled into him over months and months and he parried and pivoted and ran. Ran away from the small lumpy shape on the cold stone table. The lying lips of a woman he had loved. 

_My name is Mike Ross. My name is Mike Ross. My name is Mike Ross._

 

**Some Posh Bar in Manhatten, way past Mike's bed time**

Organizing the Associates Dinner was a pain in the ass and without Rachel Mike certainly would have crumbled under the pressure. He could scale a skyscraper in the dead of night without breaking a sweat, but sampling designer food and trying to schmooze a bunch of entitled assholes was a little beyond his skill set. 

“So, I hear dinner with the boss went well?” unlike the rest of the associates, Louis didn’t intimidate Mike. Louis made sense in a way most people didn’t. He wore his intentions, as slimy as they might be, on his sleeve. He was good at what he did, even if what he did was be a professional asshole. Mike nodded at him. 

“Pretty well yeah,” Louis sneered and Mike braced himself for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. Fortunately he was saved at the last minute by Harvey. 

“Louis, I thought I heard your dulcet tones, don’t you have kittens to go drown?” Louis made a face at him, raising his champagne glass in sarcastic salute. 

“I was just congratulating your associate on rising through the ranks, it’s not easy to impress me but I’ll admit to being mildly surprised at how well he’s done, especially after beating my prodigy during the Mock Trial.” Mike almost sprained something he rolled his eyes so hard, the Mock Trial was a joke it was so easy, Kyle’s underhanded tactics aside. At least Donna had had fun, Sara too. 

“Thanks Louis,” Mike could be polite, even to slime balls like Louis Litt. 

Louis sneered at him again, “Just don’t expect me to take it easy on you now that you’re Jessica’s favorite.” he shot a venomous glare at Harvey before slinking away. No, really, he actually slinked, Mike was almost impressed. 

“Mike,” Harvey said and Mike smiled, trying to dial down the joy at seeing him here. His desire for Harvey’s approval was mildly worrying. 

“Harvey,” he managed without vomiting rainbows all over the place. 

“You did well today,” Mike didn’t squirm, ever, as a general rule he was always perfectly balanced and in control of his own body. But if he were prone to squirming he would have just then. He beamed instead. 

“Thanks Harvey, that means a lot.” Harvey rolled his eyes.

“Down puppy, you’ve still got a ways to go before you make Junior Partner.” Mike nodded, amiable and relaxed. Today was Sara’s last day in town before leaving for Starling, they were going for a run that night that he was looking forward too.

“I’m sure I do,” Harvey looked away, for all the world appearing uneasy, a look Mike wasn’t sure he’d ever witnessed on his suave and confident boss before. 

“Your friend did well too, Donna says she's leaving soon?" Mike nodded. 

"Yeah she's heading out in the morning, back to Starling."

Harvey nodded merrily, seemingly having nothing to say to that. "Yes well, all this aside I still expect the V-Corp. briefs on my desk first thing in the morning.” he said, downing his whiskey and dropping it on a waiters nearby tray.

“Already finished,” Harvey paused, nodded and shuffled away leaving Mike to ponder over the...odd, exchange. 

He finished his rounds, shmoozed, waited for the last of the associates to leave before paying the exorbitant bill and thanking Rachel, again, for her help in selecting the venue. 

“It was no problem,” she said, coat in hand as they waited on the sidewalk for a cab. 

“You saved my ass, the least I can do is thank you.” He smiled at her, feeling lighter than he had in days, he was already mentally planning that evening with Sara. It had been a while since he’d run with someone who could keep up with him. 

Rachel opened her mouth so say something, leaning in closer only to be interrupted by a drunk and aggressive Kyle, “There he is! The man of the hour, how’s it going Michael? How you feeling? You feeling _goood_?” he slurred, leaning in too close and squeezed Mike’s shoulder. Mike bid goodbye to his good mood, it was nice while it lasted but he should have known better than to trust it, really. 

“Kyle, go home, you’re drunk.” end the altercation before it begins, that’s what he ought to do, that’s what he would do. Leaning into the road he whistled loudly for a cab, flagging one down quickly. 

“Thanks buddy, that’s mighty white of you.” Kyle grinned into his face, breathing his air and invading his space. 

“It’s not for you, it’s for Rachel.” Mike said, handing Rachel into the cab quickly and politely. “Thanks again Rachel, for everything.”

She hesitated, “we can split a cab if,” she cut her eyes ever to where Kyle was quickly losing his good humor.

“It’s fine Rachel, I’ll see you at the office ‘kay?” he shut the door before she could answer and turned to face Kyle as it drove off. 

“Always such a gentleman aren’t ya Mike? Really a great, standup guy, everyone’s hero. Louis’s new favorite, even Jessica likes you! And, well,” he leaned in, swaying a little, “we all know how much Harvey likes you.” he sneered, smirking at his own poor double entendre. “Are you even listening?”

“Yes, it takes me a while to process that much stupid all at once,” Mike tried to play it off, brush him off like he did every day. Although in hindsight calling him stupid maybe wasn’t his best idea.

“Tell me, does he share Donna with you? Or does she just watch while you get him off?” Mike did not punch him. Positive choices Michael, the voice in his head that sounded like Grams said, and he did not punch Kyle in his stupid drunk face. 

“Go home, Kyle, before you do something you regret.” Mike said, Kyle laughed. 

“Oh, I don’t think I’m going to regret this.” Kyle punched him, Mike let him, if only because his immediate reaction would have resulted in a dead body. Kyle laughed as Mike spat blood onto the ground, smirking at him as he straightened up to stare him in the eye. “What? You got something to say? Little bitch,” he spat at Mike’s feet. 

“That was a mistake,” Mike said and then laid into him. It wasn’t really a fight, a fight entails some level of equality, this was more of a beating. And maybe Mike let himself go a bit, maybe he’d had too much that night, maybe he was still more bitter than he’d like to admit. Because the feeling of crunching bone beneath his fist felt a little too good, and the look of surprise and pain on Kyle’s face was a little too satisfying. 

He stopped himself. That’s what matters, he stopped. Kyle was alive, not even that badly hurt, it looked worse than it was. Mike made it home with bloody knuckles and a cloud over his face. 

“Holy shit,” Sara said mildly, catching him at the door. “What are-what happened? Are you okay?” She checked him over quickly and efficiently, he wasn’t hurt, just a black eye that would probably give him grief in the morning. No, the problem were the flashes. Blood, darkness, Talia’s face early in the morning with a sword in her hand. 

“Mike?” vaguely Mike was aware that it wasn’t the first time she’d said his name, “Mike!” he was shaking and rocking and he couldn’t see her anymore. 

“My fault, all my fault, I killed him,” Sara was crouched in front of him now, holding his hands in hers. 

“Killed who, Mike who’s dead?” He just shook his head, running his bloodied hands over his face, trembling with adrenaline as the memories assaulted him. A small coffin in the snow, red flowers like blood, frozen in the cold. Talia’s mouth, proud and defiant and unapologetic. 

“My fault, all my fault, I let him die, I left him alone. He was all alone,” his voice broke in a sob as he rocked faster, curling up on himself. “He was so little,” he sobbed harder, voice dissolving into incoherent sorrow as he relived it, over and over again. Small hands holding his, bright blue eyes and a hopeful smile. Trusting and innocent and gone, all gone, all his fault. 

It was hours later when Mike became aware again, curled into the fetal position on the floor, covered in a blanket and watched over by Sara, tea in hand. She offered him a cup in silence. Slowly, aching, he got up. 

“How long?” 

“Three hours.” She said. He groaned, sitting beside her and stretching his back so it popped, the tea burned life back into his hands and his lungs and it felt like he was being shaken back into existence. 

“Mike,” he looked at her, eyes half closed and crusted, the swelling starting to interfere with his vision. “What happened?” she wasn’t talking about tonight, with Kyle, or the black eye, or the bloody knuckles. “Four years ago you told me you left Talia’s monastery to seek your own future, to be your own person, but that wasn’t all of it was it?” he looked down at his hands. 

“I can’t,” his voice broke. “I can’t talk about it, not yet.” he searched her face, silently accepting the end of one of the only equal friendship he had in his life. But Sara just nodded, slowly, and said nothing at all. “Thank you.” he said after the silence had dragged on for too long. 

“You look like shit.” he barked out a laugh. 

“Thanks,” she knocked his shoulder with hers before pulling him up by the elbow. 

“Come on, I’ll teach you how to do your makeup, can’t have Harvey asking any questions now can we?” she grinned as she led him into the bathroom, and Mike felt a little bit like a person instead of a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two in one day! Whabam! 
> 
> yeah who am I kidding I'm a hot mess I'm sorry I have no control at all over how long this damn story is gonna take.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the Blackberry Smoke song 'Waiting for the Thunder'
> 
> Light the fuse and run now brother cause you ain't got a lot of time  
> Don't you act surprised when it all goes to hell on your dime  
> Maybe you can stand tall enough to look the devil eye to eye  
> But you better make your get away quick so you don't have to answer why
> 
> The bells will ring  
> And the flames will fly  
> Two thousand years of fury in the big black sky  
> The wind will blow  
> And the rain will fall  
> Are we waiting for the thunder  
> Or will the lightning get us all
> 
> Waiting for the thunder
> 
> All the money and the war and religion and the which one do you serve?  
> Maybe them with the power and the glory got more then they deserve  
> Why do we stand by and do nothing while they piss it all away  
> And we hope we wake up in the mornin' to the light of a brand new day  
> (source: AZlyrics)


End file.
